Friday June 10th 2011
by SarahBeFree
Summary: Set nearly eight years after a messy break up, Kurt and Blaine meet again unexpectedly, thousands of miles from Ohio and thousands of miles from the people they used to be. But what really happened at the Dalton end of year party to pull them apart?
1. Chapter I

**A/N: Hi.**

**So I started this story _months _ago, with just a little idea in my head and _way _too much planning considering I wasn't really sure whether anyone was going to read it, let alone _like _it. But here it is…**

**I want to point out now, that there are date and POV changes; they're clearly marked and hopefully easy to follow.**

**So… It's AU Klaine, very much _not _canon. They're still the same characters. (or at least me trying to imitate those characters. They're also the same age because I started this before Blaine got demoted to a junior, and it messes up my timescales too much to even _try _to change that) They're still from Ohio, have the same high school friends. The major difference being that they had already been dating for six months when Kurt transferred.**

**Another major difference being that they broke up at the end of their junior year.**

**So, this is the story of how they meet again, thousands of miles from home and from the people they once were. This is the story of what happened to tear them apart in the first place, and this is the story of them, hopefully, falling in love all over again.**

Friday April 19th 2019

**Kurt**

It's unseasonably hot for April.

The unclouded sun is beating down relentlessly as I dash across the road, raising a hand in thanks to the drivers who allow me to cross despite the traffic lights being on green. I loosen the silk scarf wrapped around my neck as I walk, letting the cool breeze skim over the warm exposed skin of my throat as I pop open the buttons of my jacket, allowing it to fall open with the wind. Taking a deep breath I finally begin to feel my body relax after a particularly stressful day at work. My feet move purposely over the ground I know so well, following the journey I take twice a day. I enter the familiar park with a small smile.

_There's nowhere I'd rather be right now,_ I think, _than Hyde Park in spring._

The trees hang low and lazy, bursting with pink and white blossom, lining the walkways and edges of the park. Their outer branches swing gently in the breeze, arms reaching out and as if to caress one another. Beneath them in carefully manicured patches are hoards of startlingly purple and white crocus, looking more like large blossom fallen from the trees than individual flowers. Patches of daffodils also decorate the trimmed lawns, all in varying shades of yellow, all open and pointing willingly towards the intensely bright sun.

Outside the confines of the park London continues to hum with life, the constant traffic; busses and bikes and cars, trains rattling underground. And the crowds; the tourists, the business men and women, the everyday people, people rushing, late for work, late for dinner, late for picking up kids from school, always late and always rushing and _constantly_ stressed. Yet in the park the atmosphere is remarkably different, only metres from some of the busiest streets in the world the air is slightly fresher, slightly less polluted and filled with birdsong and the screams of excited children. A particularly loud scream causes my head to snap round, my attention instantly falling on two young girls no older that four running erratically across the grass, both dressed in school uniforms, their coats and bags lying discarded a distance away, their cardigans flying open like wings as they run.

I slow down to watch as the older looking girl chases the other, short light blonde hair tied loosely in a pony tail, small wisps pulling free as she runs. Her eyes are bright blue and her skin's pale, cheeks flushed red from playing, small legs pumping furiously. Her much smaller friend has no chance of escape. The older girl continues to gets closer and closer until eventually she's close enough to throw herself at her friend. A small scream of defeat escapes the captured girls lips as she's knocked face first into the grass, long curly hair splaying out in front of her, body sliding forward with the force of the hit. I can't help but gasp at the impact of her miniature body against the ground, but my worry is unnecessary because within seconds of falling the smaller girl has turned over, laughing manically as her friend violently tickles her, eyes scrunching up with laughter.

The saying 'the bigger they are, the harder they fall' springs to mind and I smile widely, because the laughing girl really is tiny, miniature limbs covered in adorable baby fat, cheeks plump and pinchable. Her friend stops tickling her long enough for her to catch her breath, eye's fluttering open, revealing large hazel eyes. I feel the air in my lungs catch briefly as they take my breath away, my mind filling with long dormant memories of frighteningly similar eyes. I quickly and forcefully push the memories back into the deep recesses of my mind, back where they belong with a tired sigh. I continue to watch, having stopped walking completely now, as both girls scramble up, still grinning at each other and brushing themselves down.

I instantly notice grass stains on the smaller girls knee's and elbows, green against white and grey and I inwardly cringe, scanning the surrounding adults I can't help but wonder which are her parents, sympathising with them and the scrubbing which awaits them this weekend. Only when I really look do I notice that the park is absolutely _covered_ in children; running, chasing, climbing, shouting, screaming, crying, laughing. All beautifully oblivious to the world around them.

I scan the adults again, searching for exhaustion or annoyance but seeing nothing but small smiles and delicate laughter. It's while searching the faces of these unknown people that my eyes skim over the head of a man sat on a bench with his back to me. I overlook him and then do a double take, instantly recognising him. But it can't be him. My initial shock drifts away as I put the recognition down to the fact that I've just been hit so unexpectedly with memories of him, and I have to consciously stop my mind from going into overdrive at the simple _idea_ of him being so near.

I almost laugh at the ridiculous implausibility before my mind wanders, and suddenly I'm crossing of startling similarities; dark hair, cut to just above the ears but long enough to have a noticeable curl in it. Broad shoulders and the way he sits, right leg bent and tucked beneath him. The angle of his neck as if he's reading something on his lap, the way his hand runs lazily through his hair before making a movement as if to push glasses further up his nose. Those likenesses I can ignore. _It's shocking but completely possible for two people to look so alike,_ I tell myself. And for the most part I believe that, at least until my eyes come to rest on his only visible shoe, and I just can't ignore how the laces are tied; _wrongly_. The exact same way _he_ always tied them because he never bothered to learn properly.

It _has_ to be him; it's just unbelievable that two people could be so extraordinarily alike. Yet the possibility of it being him is miniscule, non existent, _it's absolutely impossible, _I tell myself. But my heart argues; _there's no way it__can't__be him_, it screams. He has the same hair, sits in the same way, ties his shoe laces in such a unique way, has similar style and, as much as I hate to admit it, I can _feel_ it's him.

I can feel it in my heart and my mind, and deep in the pit of my stomach as a crushing, whirring, spiralling sensation has been set in motion. My heart's thumping and my 'fight or flight' response has kicked in, sending my senses into overdrive, every sound becomes louder, every touch more sensitive, every sight more focused. But in spite of my bodies extreme reaction I can't help but notice how little he's grown since high school and I smile, remembering just how self conscious he'd always been of his height.

It's upsetting how quickly I recognise him, literally in the blink of an eye. Even after years apart, I can still pick him out of a crowd it seems. But now I have to acknowledge that he's here, in Hyde Park, in London, in England. _My_England_._ This is meant to be my safe haven, far enough away from Ohio to not fear bumping into people from my past, _specifically_ him. And yet 4000 miles from 'home' and here he sits, practically on my door step, less than a mile from my home. The last person I ever expected to lay eyes on again.

I stand staring at the back of his head for what feels like days, but is only really a matter of seconds as I allow shock to overwhelm me, followed foolishly by happiness, and then fear hits me like a tsunami, washing over me again and again as I remember the last time we spoke; the abundance of tears and shouting, screaming, cruel words batted between us endlessly, apologies and excuses, threats and accusations all mingling together. The last time we saw each other our faces were tear stained and our eyes red and puffy, frustration and betrayal written across both our faces, and the painfully loud slamming of a door finally crumbling any possibility of reconciliation.

Realisation and fear hit me quickly and momentarily stun me, and before I even so much as _think_ about the consequences of what I'm about to do, to imagine how he might react, or even how _I_ will react; I speak his name. Questioningly and barely louder than a whisper, but it travels on the wind and within a second his head shoots up. He slowly turns to face me as my heart pounds rapidly. I can feel the blood coursing through my veins, fuelled by adrenaline, my fingers tingling with sensation and my ears humming with the beat of my own heart. My throat feels constricted as I wait and although it takes all of three seconds for eye contact to be established, it feels like an eternity. His face is a maelstrom of emotions, first shock and sadness, followed by distrust, a hint of happiness and eventually settling on confusion as he stares into my eyes for the first time in nearly eight years.

He stands up from the bench slowly, hesitantly before turning to face me. He discards his newspaper on the bench, brow furrowing slightly as he pulls his glasses from his face. We stand for a moment in silence. Only ten feet stand between us and yet miles separate us. So we just stare at one other, both wide eyed and mouths gaping an inch. I'm relieved to see he's just as confused as I am, _and just as overwhelmed_, I tell myself. I want to say something, anything, but nothing comes to mind. Where do you start when the man you promised to love forever is stood in front of you after eight years of _nothing_? Eight years of planning and promises, shared dreams and wishes and hopes, whispered in the dead of night at the tender age of 17, all to no avail because here we stand, as separate and as alone as if we're strangers.

The silence stretches on until I can't take it anymore, I _have_ to say something, I have to make sure that this is real, that _he__'s_ real. "I-Is this… I mean, are you…" I stammer through numb lips, so lost for words because suddenly there _are_ no words. How can this be real? How after nearly eight years of nothing, of me consciously avoiding anything I even so much as _associate_ with him, can we suddenly be thrown together like this? Not only are we thousands of miles from where we were both born, where we both grew up, where we fell in love, but also thousands of miles from where either of us had ever even considered spending our lives. And yet here we are, not only in the same country, but the same city, the same park, on the same day, at the same time. Never until this moment have I given a shred of thought to the idea of fate or destiny, but this just seems too huge a coincidence to be _just_a twist of fate, because in a city of almost eight million people, it's him I end up wandering by.

I clear my throat; swallowing dryly and moistening my lips before finally asking, "Is it really you?" I take a few tentative steps closer and immediately realise how idiotic I sound, but there's no other way I can be sure. I have to hear him confirm it. Or I have to at least _hear_him, because his is a voice I'm sure I'll never forget. His face quickly morphs from complete shock into one of the most genuine smiles I've ever seen. My heart continues to race as I gingerly smile back, moving slightly closer, pleased that he seems just as speechless as I am. I'm also relieved that he hasn't shouted or ignored me, he even seems somewhat happy, considering all the smiling he's doing.

"It's me," he confirms simply, still grinning and staring into my eye. But there's not a shred of doubt in my mind now I'm facing him properly. And despite my best efforts I can't help but recognise more and more things about him, things that I thought I'd've long forgotten; the way he stands, awkwardly with his hands in his pocket, the exact colour and shape of his hazel eyes. I recognise his small delicate ears, the shape of his eyebrows, the five o'clock shadow creeping along his chin and neck, pink lips and the gentle curve of his neck to where it meets his clavicle. I'm not surprised by how much I remember, all things considered, and yet the small but obvious changes feel like a stab to my heart. He's definitely grown very slightly since high school and filled out, his shoulders are noticeably broader, his arms thicker. And in the corners of his eyes when he smiles I see the whisper of wrinkles, laughter lines, and I can't help but wonder whose made him smile enough to leave permanent creases in his skin.

"I can't believe it's you… here- in London," I say feebly with a nervous shake of my head, unable to hold back the thoughts racing and rushing through my mind, "after all this time I mean, I don't understand how… or why…" I trail off again, cocking my head to the side quizzically. I have no idea what to say because there is far too much I don't understand, can't even _begin_ to understand, and far too many questions to be answered. And there's a large part of me that's scared of what I might hear.

"I live here Kurt," the way my name rolls off his tongue makes my breath catch slightly, "in London I mean, about 20 minutes that way by car," he continues simply, pointing over the park but not taking his eyes off me, "in Wandsworth." I look towards where he's pointing, deep in thought, _how long has he been living here? _I wonder. I can feel his eyes on me as I glance subconsciously in the direction of my own home in the opposite direction, less than a ten minute walk from where we're stood. My mind stalls and quickly calculates that about five miles separate our homes. I can't help but be struck by the irony. We spent six months of our relationship driving the almost two hour trip to see each other before I transferred, and yet here we are, eight years later and within a 30 minute drive of one other. We hadn't even known we're living in the same country, let alone within so few miles of each other.

"Kurt?" he questions after a few seconds of me staring into the distance, eyes glazed. I snap my head back to look at him, hoping he saw only surprise in my expression, not how upset the fact we live so close and yet have no reason to see each other has made me. "What brings you to London then?" he asks cheerfully, still smiling up at me and I can't help but notice a similar expression of surprise in his eyes as what I can feel swirling in my stomach. I know him well enough even now to see the cogs in his mind churning as he tries to figure out how this is possible, obviously understanding this no more than I do. Which destroys the small, fleeting thought I had that he might've come here looking for me, even after all this time. But as soon as this thought crosses my mind I hate myself for it, because I don't want him to have come looking for me, I don't _need_him to have come looking for me.

"Oh, I err, live here too, just off Bayswater Road," I point in the direction of my home as I speak, noticing the same realisation flit across his face as he too grasps just how close we live. He glances in the direction I'm pointed, the same direction where the two girls who initially caused me to stop are still playing, occasional fits of giggles filling the air.

"This is so strange…" he whispers in the direction of my home, deep in thought and talking more to himself than me. A few seconds of silence pass, "d'you wanna sit… and chat?" he finally asks, nervousness wrapping gently around his words as he glances back at me, motioning towards the vacant bench. "I mean, only if you've got time, I don't want to keep you from any plans you've got," he rushes to add. But I just smile and nod in response, slightly lost for words as we sit, him once again bending his right leg beneath himself so he can face me, his right arm resting upon the back of the bench while I sit with one leg crossed over the other, angled towards him. We just stare at each other for a second, complete disbelief racing through our confused minds before we both laugh gently, averting our eyes and shaking our heads at our own nerves.

"How long've you been living here then, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks politely, shaking me from my reverie. "I mean, I never even heard you left Lima… not that I thought you'd stay there long," he smiles a frighteningly familiar smile, obviously remembering my Broadway dreams. _He never heard I left Lima, _I think. Well of course he never heard, who would he have spoken to who would've known to tell him? As soon as we broke up all ties were severed. I never tried to contact his friends and they never tried to contact me. I forced my friends to delete his number, and he never contacted them anyway. So how could he possibly have heard what I've been doing for the last eight years? I can see curiosity burning in his eyes as he watches me, waiting tensely for my response. Maybe he thinks I came to London to find him… I'll soon destroy that idea.

"Uhm" I mumble, mentally counting back the years, staring into the distance as I do so. "Seven years in September" I finally say with a sad smile when my eyes fall on Blaine. I hadn't realised it'd been so long, not having thought about it in a while. London has become my home, the place where all my dreams will come true, and as foolish as it sounds sometimes I forget there are people in the world who know this hasn't always been home, that my dreams were at one time going to be lived out in a different city with Blaine by my side.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That's ages!" he says shocked, "I've only been here two years, three in November," he shrugs, scratching at the wood of the bench beneath his palm. "How come you moved here anyway, I mean you must've been only what, 18? Surely Burt didn't let you just fly off to England?" He rambles slightly; words jumbling but leaving smiling lips. I smile back, pleased that he remembers my dads name and how over protective he's always been.

"I went university here, Central St. Martins" I say proudly, nodding in the direction of the university, "Fashion," I say simply, knowing he'll understand. And he does, his grin widening by a noticeable degree. "Once I finished, well… I was so in love with London, I had more reason to stay than to leave," I say with a hint of sadness, failing to mention that I couldn't bare the thought of going back to Ohio. I guess some places just hold far too many memories to ever truly be called home again.

"I should've guessed it was fashion that brought you here," he smirks as his eyes wander very blatantly over my body, and suddenly I feel ridiculously self conscious. I straighten my back in an attempt to un-crease my clothes, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. I'm dressed really quite plainly compared to my teenage years, having veered more towards the tailored yet casual look. I'm mostly covered in a dark grey suit; underneath which you can just see the hint of a thin, faded blue t-shirt with carefully cut rips along the hem. My feet are covered in highly polished black boots with artfully loose laces. "You really haven't changed much at all" he finally says, eyes locking forcefully on mine, noticeably more intense than seconds ago as I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or not, but I'm going to take it as one" I grin at him teasingly.

"Of course it's a compliment!" he laughs, feigning shock and knowing me well enough even now to know I'm teasing him. Does this mean he's glad I haven't changed? Does he still think I'm beautiful like he used to tell me?

"Well in that case you haven't changed all that much either," I say nervously looking away. I'm not lying; almost everything about him is exactly the same. We sit in silence for a moment and I can see him out of the corner of my eye still smiling, looking down at his own lap. Eventually he breaks the silence.

"How is your dad anyway? And Carole of course, how're they both?" He asks graciously, always respectful and well mannered. A 'real gentleman' as my step mum Carole always called him. When I look round I'm surprised to see he's genuinely interested, asking because he wants to know and not because asking about each others parents it just what you do in these situations. Actually I'm not sure what kind of situation this is, and I'm pretty sure he's just as clueless. This causes me to smile at both our nervousness and the palpable awkwardness of the conversation.

"They're both great thanks," I say, adding "I'm sure if they knew I'd bumped into you they'd both send their regards." I can't help but smirk as I say it because I'm sure if I was to tell my dad I've bumped into Blaine he'd be a lot more likely to send his shotgun first class than his regards after everything that'd happened. Blaine seems to be thinking along the same lines as he nods, a knowing smile flashing across his face. "How are your parents?" I ask then, more out of politeness than anything else. I know of course that he's never had an easy relationship with his parents, and I can't help but wonder whether they've got anything to do with him moving so far away.

"Eurgh. Same as ever I guess… I'd rather not talk about them, you know more than most what they're like" he says quickly, slightly deflated compared to how he'd been just seconds before, looking down as his grin shifts into more of a grimace. But it only lasts a fleeting moment before he's looking back up at me, eyes sparkling with a familiar faint smile, and I can't help but think of how honestly pleased to see me he seems. However this part of him seems unchanged; still brushing his problems under an imaginary carpet rather than dealing with them. Or maybe he has changed and does deal with them, just with someone else, the possibility of which sends a jolt of jealously right up my spine.

I move on swiftly, more interested in keeping that smile on his face than hearing about his parents. "What made you move here anyway?" I ask casually, looking round at him quizzically, just in time to see his head drop to look at his lap again, his facial expression changing from a lazy smile to something completely different, something I can't quite name; lost between sadness and regret before finally settling on happiness. But just when I think he isn't going to answer he raises his head, familiar eyes far older and more tired than they had just minutes ago, he opens his mouth to speak, and just as he does the noise of Big Ben chimes over London, noting the passing of another hour.

Blaine glances from me towards the direction of Big Ben, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion. He raises his wrist to look at his watch, "Shit!" he exclaims jumping up.

"What?" I ask, baffled by the sudden change, and slightly annoyed that he seems to have forgot that we're mid way through a conversation, and more importantly that he was about to answer a question I am very curious about, one of the _only _questions I'm curious about.

"I'm really sorry Kurt but I've gotta run!" he say frantically, shoving his paper into his worn satchel, "I'll see you around hopefully," he says with a genuine smile, meeting my eyes briefly as panic swells inside of me. Will I never see him again? We haven't so much as exchanged phone numbers, or addresses, or emails, or any way of contacting each other, just rough estimations of where we live.

So I sit there, shocked as I watch him grab his coat from the bench, hurriedly shoving his arms through it, shrugging it onto his shoulders. He smiles at me again and turns to hurry away. "Can-I-have-your-number?" I blurt out as he walks away, the words practically flying from my lips before my mind has had a chance to catch up. Because what do I have to lose? He's going to walk away now and the chances are I'll never see him again, and if he says no, well the situation's exactly the same, but with a dash of rejection. He stops stock still, turning to face me, a look of anguish on his face, contrasting heavily with the smile that'd been there only moments ago.

"I don't have my phone on me, and… I don't know my number…" he says a little coldly, and I instantly realise it's an excuse. I look into his eyes and don't see anguish. I see pity. He pities me because he thinks I haven't let go of our past. Well, I let our past go eight years ago and moved 4000 miles to make sure of it. I uprooted my entire life and changed every plan I ever made to get away from him, and yet here he is, stood in front of me in the one place I thought I'd managed to escape him, and he's still managing to upset me.

"Oh, okay, no worries," I say simply, standing to leave, brushing myself down and pulling my bag onto my shoulder as I refuse to make eye contact.

"No Kurt, it's not like that… I mean, I would, but I genuinely don't know my number," he says pleadingly, stepping closer to me, lifting a hand momentarily as if to touch my chin and tilt my face to meet his, like he had years ago when I'd been upset. But he stops himself, arm dropping limply to his side. It upsets me even more that he knows me so well, even after all these years, even after I believe I've changed into a completely different person, even after I've done everything in my power to not show him my sadness, he still knows me better than almost anyone. "Give me your number…?" he says, and I'm not sure whether it was a command or a question but I look up at him, eyes searching his for any sign of deception. "Please?" he pleads, "I really would like to see you again, but I seriously have to get going, like, now!" he says hurriedly, glancing quickly at his watch again, and back up at me hopefully.

I can't help but be suspicious, is he just humouring me? I grimace at the thought of giving him my number and then waiting feverishly for a phone call, but I won't do that, if I never hear from him again then my life's no different. I sigh, knowing deep down I'd give him anything in a heartbeat, yet on the surface I hold onto the indignation I feel. "You got a pen?" I ask moodily, knowing he won't.

To my surprise he pulls one instantly from his bag, along with a scrap of paper ripped from a writing pad. He holds them out to me with a cocky grin, knowing exactly what I'd been thinking. I snatch the pen from him, "you'll lose the paper," I mutter, looking him dead in the eye. Looking away from him as he continues to grin, I grab his still outstretched hand, surprisingly warm and fragile feeling in my own. He gasps slightly at the contact of my cold skin as I uncurl his fingers to reveal his palm. Smiling I scribble my number along the part where his thumb meets his hand. Subconsciously I notice still calloused fingers and that small scar on his palm from when he got some glass stuck in it as a child. I resist the urge to lean down and place a gentle kiss on it like I used to.

I push the lid back on the pen with a satisfying pop and hold it out to him; he stares at the number scribbled in messy, spiky hand writing on his palm, smiling slightly wistfully before glancing up at me and the pen in my outstretched hand. "Keep it" he says with a grin, "I'll err, talk to you soon I guess," he says, slightly nervously but still smiling. He then makes no move to walk away, and I'm confused for what felt like the thousandth time in the last ten minutes, because wasn't he just desperate to leave?

"M'kay," I say, elongating the syllables, not sure what to do. Eventually I turn to leave, still with my eyes locked on his but angled away from him slightly. He smiles reassuringly, as if indicating I should trust him, so I do. "Bye then," I smile a little before walking diagonally past him, striding slightly, wanting to appear confident. As I walk I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my back, my skin prickling with the sensation.

I'm about 40 feet away when I hear his voice, slightly muffled as if he doesn't want me to hear. I turn and immediately realise he's not talking to me; facing slightly away and gesturing with his hands to someone. I follow his line of sight and see the two young girls who originally caused me to stop and have been playing noisily nearby throughout our short conversation. They both glance up from where they're lying on their backs, pointing at the clouds in the sky, jumping to their feet they run over to him. How does he know them? He then moves toward where their coats and bags are discarded, throwing them each their coat when they reach him. He leans down to help the smaller curly haired girl zip hers up, and then I remember her eyes. Caramel eyes which reminded me instantly of his, surrounded in an identical fan of thick black eyelashes, she also has his dark hair, his curls and his smile.

As he zips up her coat he notices the grass stains on her knees and frowns, and I remember wondering earlier who'd be cleaning them for Monday, surely not him? But he smiles at her, and kisses her gently on the nose. My heart begins to pound in my chest again as confusion washes over me for a second time, surely they aren't _his_ children? How could they be? _But he kissed her,_ my mind screams as my heart lodges in my throat. _They could be a friends kids,_ I tell myself, maybe he's just doing them a favour and taking them home after school? But I knew this isn't true, they have to be his, no two people can look so much alike just by coincidence.

Suddenly I feel physically sick. My stomach churns and my eyes fall shut as the earth moves beneath me. He has _children_, which means he must have a _boyfriend_, actually it's more likely he has a _husband._Someone he loves enough to have a family with, and he's only 24!

My mind's whirling, spinning out of control as I try to make sense of what's just happened. Glancing towards the three of them again, I see him sling their two bags over his back, one a Dora the Explorer bag, and the other Toy Story, both looking ridiculously out of place against his navy blue tailored jacket. He drops his hands to his sides and begins to walk, the two girls catching up either side, each slipping a tiny hand into his. They're getting gradually further away, walking in the opposite direction to me, but I watch with a drumming heart as the hand with my scribbled phone number on is squeezed by the older, blonde haired girl. She doesn't look like him at all, and I can't help but wonder if she's his partner's biological child or maybe they adopted her. My heart breaks at the thought of him getting home to a husband, who'll probably be wonderful and perfect and everything he deserves. Everything I could never be.

I hate myself for hating what they have. But it's everything I want, and more so than that it's _Blaine_. The person I used to imagine dedicating the rest of my life to, the person who late at night I would whisper how much I loved him into the night, hoping in his dreams he'd hear and feel the same. The person I would have given everything I had for, and had, only for it to crumble and break and fall apart. I gave up all my hopes and dreams of Broadway to do what he asked of me, because when I heard rumours Blaine was going NYU I applied as far away as I dared; London. Sticking to my unspoken promise of staying as far away from him as possible. With Blaine, being in love had felt easy and simple, essential to my survival. And I know people are cynical, and think 'well, everything about love seems perfect when you're 17' but with us, everything truly was perfect. Everything apart from me.


	2. Chapter II

**A/N: Note the date and POV changes, and I hope you enjoy :)**

Monday June 6th 2011

**Blaine**

The mercilessly loud and harsh sound of my alarm clock pierces the previously quiet summer morning. I roll quickly to the edge of my bed, dangerously close to toppling off in my urgency to shut off the alarm. Head still buried in the pillow I swing my arm out and fumble to find the 'off' button. Silence is eventually restored and I gratefully slip my arm back under the covers, grumbling incoherently into my pillow.

It's the last week of term at Dalton, and although some people still have exams to sit mine all finished last week. I'm lucky in that sense, I guess, but the headmaster insists that everyone stays and attends class until the official end of term on the 10th. Truth be told however, I don't _want_ term to end. I want quite the opposite. I've never before dreaded the end of a school year, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only sane teenager who does, but I have a good reason, I'll actually argue it's the best reason to want school to never end; _Kurt_.

This is our last week together, because once this week is over, _that's it._ He's applied to transfer back to McKinley at the start of our senior year in September, and no matter how much I've begged and pleaded and argued, once he's set his mind on something there's no going back it seems; it's set in stone. Maybe I'm being dramatic; so I'll spend my entire summer with him, and even when he does go back to McKinley nothing in the world can stop us seeing each other, but it's more than that.

I don't want to go back to the painfully long journeys to see each other once summer is over. Journeys mostly made up of spending a ridiculous two hours driving between his home and Dalton to spend a measly couple of hours together before having to leave and drive another two hours home. I know how much he misses his old school, and all his friends, and now the bullies have gone there really is no reason for him _not_ to go back, apart, of course, from how indescribably sad it makes _me_. Admittedly the funds for Dalton _are_ steep, and I know his parents struggled to pay for the first year, and that this fact itself is a big enough reason for Kurt.

But no matter how happy it makes him to be going home, and how happy it makes me to _see_ him happy, I can't help the crushing sensation in my stomach every time I think about him being so far away. We'll no longer have lessons together, eat lunch together among our friends. I'll no longer be able to walk through the halls, proudly holding hands with my boyfriend, or to reach out and squeeze his hand when I'm feeling just a little bit alone. I'll never again be able to serenade him in Warblers practice, which I love despite how much our friends tease us, and I'll never again catch him staring at me surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye when he thinks I don't notice. I'll never hear the soft creak of my dorm door as he sneaks in, long after curfew to wrap his hands around my waist and nuzzle his face into my neck, before falling asleep in my arms. I'll miss his gentle kisses and knowing smiles, hearing his angelic voice and the touch of his soft skin. The list is endless, and it depresses me to think about it. I just kept holding onto the fact that this is what he wants, and should therefore be what I want. Sometimes it's just hard to convince yourself though.

So it's with a final defeated groan that I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up, instinctively running my hand through my hair and rubbing my hazy eyes. I glance at the clock, wondering whether I'm early enough to go and wake Kurt, but I know I'm not. He wakes painfully early to get ready. So instead I shower quickly and get dressed, foregoing my hair gel in the hope that I'll have enough time to see Kurt alone for a bit before we go down to breakfast with everyone. I'm trying to steal as much time with him as possible before miles separate us. I dash out of my room and down the corridor slightly to Kurt's room, pushing the door open, not even bothering to knock in my eagerness to see him.

At the sound of the door bursting open he glances round from where he's stood at his wardrobe, arm out stretched as he leans up to pull a shirt from its hanger. He's already wearing his uniform trousers and black socks, but nothing else. His hair already styled into his signature quiff and I can see from the softness of his skin and the scent in the air that he's moisturised. He smiles at me fondly, not at all surprised by my dramatic entrance, and we just stare at each other for a second, his arm still raised to take his shirt down. "Hey," I say, grinning from the door way.

"Hey" he replies simply, looking away and finally pulling the white shirt down and checking for creases. I cross the room to him, letting the door swing shut behind me before I stop directly in front of him, grinning up at his bemused smile, showing more than a hint of confusion and amusement at my strange behaviour. "What?" he finally asks self-consciously as my eyes rake unashamedly over his bare chest, all pale skin and faint, hard muscle. We've been dating just over a year and despite how many times I've seen his body, his beauty still catches me off guard and I can't help but stare.

Tearing my eyes away from his visible hip bones I smile flirtatiously up at him, knowing he'll see the lust burning in my eyes as I speak. "Anyone ever told how utterly beautiful you are?" I ask, raising my right hand to trace his hairline gently, ghosting over his perfect skin.

He closes his eyes at my touch and smiles dreamily as my finger trace right down to the tip of his ear, gently lacing along the cartilage before I reach the lobe. I splay my fingers out and tangle them in the hair at the nape of his neck as my thumb outlines the shape of his ear. I lean up, pulling him down slightly and brush my lips against his, barely touching but enough to make him groan gently in the back of his throat, the vibrations tickling my palm where it rests on his throat. I grin, loving the effect I have on him before pulling away, allowing my hand still cupping his face to glide slowly away, my index finger grazing the skin stretched along his jaw as his eyes flicker open, pupils dilated with desire. My hand reaches his chin, and as I begin to pull away his head dips down quickly, my finger grazing his lips briefly before he quickly opens his mouth and snaps his teeth shut around it, just after the first joint.

His lips don't touch my finger, just his sharp teeth as he grins open mouthed and impishly. I can feel his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin as he bites down slightly harder. I gasp, feeling as his teeth press indents into my skin, my eyebrows rising slowly as his tongue touches the tip of my finger before his mouth closes completely around it. The warmth of his mouth engulfs just the tip and I can feel my heart rate increasing slightly as blood rushes to my cock. All this time his eyes have been locked unwaveringly on mine. I feel his teeth loosen, releasing my finger so that only his lips hold it gently, and I have no intention of pulling away. He swishes his tongue over it a few times and sucks before purring deep in his throat, the vibrations coursing through my body as I imagine him doing this to a different part of me. But it's over as quickly as it began and he's pulling away, his pink lips sliding slowly over the tip of my finger as he releases me, smirking at my shocked face.

For a moment I stand frozen, finger still outstretched, mouth gaping slightly in shock, eyes still fixed on his as he continues to smirk. "Two can play at the teasing game Blaine," he finally says, "and close your mouth, you're drolling" he chastises jokingly. I close my mouth with an almost audible swallow, grinning sheepishly as he shrugs his shirt over his shoulders and begins to button it up.

"I'm going to miss this," I say without thinking as he pulls his blazer over his shirt, turning away from me to straighten his collar in the mirror.

"What? Me sucking your finger before lessons?" he asks playfully, catching my eye in the mirror and winking provocatively.

"No," I reply, then correct myself, "well yeah, but I meant just seeing you every morning, eating breakfast with you, watching you grimace every day at the uniform," I add the last bit with a smile as I watch him scowl at his own reflection.

He smiles sadly, turning to face me, "Can we please not have this argument again?" his eyes are pleading as he laces his tie around his neck.

"It's not an argument, it's a _discussion_, I just don't see why-" he cuts me off early, and I can hear frustration lacing his words.

"It is _not_ a _discussion_ Blaine, it's an _argument_. Discussion is just a word people use when they don't want to admit they're arguing." He states matter of factly, finishing his tie with a rough tug, "and we're not _discussing_ it anymore, you _know _I can't stay here, so stop trying to guilt me into it," he huffs slightly as he grabs his bag from the chair by his desk and strides to his door. I follow behind diligently, catching his hand in mine as we walk down the corridor to breakfast.

"I'm sorry," I instantly apologise. "Seriously, I don't mean to upset you, I just…" I say genuinely. I'm lost for words, not sure how to explain the sinking sickly feeling I get whenever I think of him not being across the hall, hating myself a little more each second for how needy I'm acting.

"You don't need to apologise, and I know you don't mean to upset me, I get it Blaine, I really do, don't you think I'm upset to?" he squeezes my hand as he glances at me, "But I can't stay here, for a start Dad and Carole can barely afford it, and now McKinley's safe I can't expect them to pay for unnecessary private school. Plus, I _do_ miss my friends, as much as I love Wes and David, and all the other guys, it's just not the same."

I want to ask, _how about me?,_ but think better of it. We've already been down that road too many times and each time was less futile than the last and increasingly frustrating. So instead I smile reassuringly and mentally scold myself for bringing it up again; swearing to myself that I'll just enjoy this last week with Kurt before summer officially begins. I smile secretly as the thought of two months of uninterrupted summer lying ahead of us.

After grabbing breakfast we sit at our usual place, surrounded mostly by our Warbler friends, all loudly discussing the annual end of year party that's set to happen Friday. I slide closer than usual to Kurt, placing my hand on his thigh under the table, squeezing gently and hoping he'll understand I'm still apologising. He leans his head down to rest on my shoulder briefly, indicating that I'm forgiven.

_What am I even worrying about_? I suddenly think. We're so close, and for the first six months of our relationship he'd been at McKinley, and we got through that fine, travelling to see each other most days, weekends usually spent with me feigning sleep on the Hummel's sofa, waiting for silence to engulf the house before sneaking stealthily into his room. We set the alarm for early, waking his parents to make breakfast together, them oblivious to the fact we'd spent the night wrapped together so tightly it was hard to remember where one of us ended and the other began.

"Wait, what? We're allowed to invite people who don't go to Dalton?" I hear Kurt ask, obviously having zoned out for a minute and completely losing track of the conversation.

"Yeah sure, invite whoever you want. It'd be a bit shit if it was just us Dalton lads, just let me know their names and I'll make sure they get on the list," David says to Kurt with a half hearted smile, shovelling spoons full of cornflakes into his mouth at an alarming rate.

"So, can I invite people from McKinley?" Kurt asks tentatively. I can see the hope in his eyes, the joy at being able to spend a night in the company of his old school friends.

"Course, why not?" David says between spoonfuls.

He misses the huge grin that breaks out across Kurt's face, too intent on his food, but I don't, and it makes me grin just as wide. He's abandoned his breakfast and is practically bouncing in his seat with excitement as he slides his phone from his pocket. I watch as he sends a mass text out to everyone in his old Glee Club, '**End of year party at Dalton this Friday, you're all invited, let me know if you can make it. I miss you guys xxx'**

I can't help but smile at his exuberance, letting his excitement seep slowly into me. I've always hated the end of year parties, always full of people I don't know and don't _want_ to know. Everyone drinking to get drunk, shouting and puking and blacking out all over the place. Usually some seniors make soppy speeches about 'The Majestic Dalton Academy' to quote just one of last years speakers, and some students return from the previous year, after their first year at college or work, to regale us with tails of the 'outside world' and all their trials and tribulations, all full of bullshit that I don't want to hear. I know only too well how difficult life is outside the walls of Dalton; I don't need them to confirm it for me.

But with Kurt by my side this year will be different; I swear to myself that I'll enjoy it, for Kurt's sake. I don't want him to see me mopping around when all he wants to do is say good bye to the new friends he's made this year, and all _I _really want to do is enjoy my last night with him before he leaves me here.

Wednesday April 24th 2019

**Kurt**

Ignoring the startled and scared looks of the other workers I storm into my office, slamming the door furiously behind me. God I hate my job. No, that's a lie, I actually quite enjoy my job, I just can't stand that stupid, stuck up, cocky prick who thinks all his idea's are amazing, and unique, and are going to sweep me off my feet. I've been working for Jaeger London for nearly four years and never in that time have I met someone quite as full of shit as him. And that's saying something.

I scream into the empty room as frustration sweeps over me again.

We've just had a _huge_ meeting with some of the executives of the company, and as Fashion Director it's my responsibility to present to them our ideas for the next season. With quite a few people working for me, including him, this was supposed to be theirs, as well as my, time to shine, so to speak. Show the big bosses just what we we're capable of, but then he goes and ruins it. Going off on a wild tangent which has nothing to do with anything we've been discussing, talking complete crap, and embarrassing me and everyone else in the room more by the second.

I managed to shut him up quickly with one of the iciest glares I've ever given, and luckily someone else picked up where he left of and veered the meeting back in the right direction while I continued to glare at him throughout. When we left he ran after me to apologise, "Kurt! I'm so sorry, I- will you stop and listen to me?" he pleads as I march away after the meeting.

"I have nothing to say to you, you just humiliated me in front of some of the most important people in this company. I can't believe you could be so _stupid_!" I retaliate, spinning on my heel to face him in the crowded open office area; people stop what they're doing to watch as I beat down one of the businesses newest and youngest employees.

"I er..." he stammers, swallowing heavily as he stands facing me, a few feet lie between us. He then recovers some of his bravado and pushes himself up to his full height, easily a few inches taller than me, and noticeably more muscular. He cocks his chin at me, "I actually thought it was a really interesting idea," he says, and I have to briefly admire his bravery. No one has ever stood up to me like this, especially not in a room full of people.

But if he thinks I'm going to back down because he's physically bigger than me he has another thing coming. I raise one eyebrow at him questioningly, and then sneer, my upper lip pulling back over my teeth as my eyes narrow with rage. "You thought it was a _good_ _idea_?" I ask sarcastically, trying to keep calm. "D'you know what George," I say stepping forward, "I've met some twats in my life, I promise you I have, but in my entire life, I have _never_ met someone as infuriatingly unintelligent, someone as selfish, or someone as _utterly_ unbearable as you!" I spit the words at him, stepping closer as I speak until our faces are separated by inches, "if you everembarrass _me_, or anyone else in my team for that matter, again, I will personally see to it that you are fired!" I give him one last glare before turning dramatically away from him and storming off.

Judging from the look of fear on his face, that knocked him down a peg or two. He stammers when he next speaks, "W-what do you want me to do now, I coul-"

I cut him off, swinging to face him, "Don't do any fucking thing, don't _touch_ anything, or _talk_ to anyone, or even _think_. Because you'll probably just screw it up," I swing open the door of my office, glancing back before walking in, "and don't even talk to me again until you have a genuinely good idea, and I'm serious, it's gotta be out of this world if you want to redeem yourself from this!"

So that's how I got here, back leaning against my door, chest heaving frantically with anger. _I swear to God this job will kill me one day._ I walk over to my desk and fall heavily into the chair, appreciating the comfort after such a stressful few hours. I grab my phone from where I left it on my desk before the meeting; glancing at the screen I see I have two missed calls, a few texts and a voice mail. Skimming through the texts I see the majority are work related, and I quickly type out hurried replies. I look at the missed calls, one from my home in Ohio, most likely dad, the other a number I don't recognise.

Frowning slightly I wonder fleetingly who it is. I decide to ring my dad first, guessing that the other number is probably also work related. I press the number labelled 'Home' in my phonebook and bring the phone to my ear as it begins to ring.

"Hello?" A female voice answers cheerfully.

"Hey Carole, it's Kurt, did you or dad ring? I had a-" But before I can carry on she's talking over me and I smile. I really do miss her.

"Oh hey sweetie, how are you? D'you know who I saw last week? You'll never guess… it was that lovely Quinn girl who you and Finn went high school with, she really is the sweetest thing. She got married last year! Lives in New Hampshire now with her husband, came back to visit her mum, isn't that lovely?" She rambles on happily, obviously believing this to be vital news to me. Although I do smile at the fact Quinn's settled down. She deserves to be happy, as do all my high school friends. I'm hit with a pang of guilt at the fact I've lost contact with so many of them after moving to London.

"Yeah, Carol, that's great, but-"

"She asked how you and Finn are, I told her all about you escaping to London, she was so pleased for you. And she told me to tell you if ever you're passing through New Hampshire, you should definitely pay her a visit!" I can hear the smile in her voice as she revels in how lovely Quinn is, and I wonder whether she's ever secretly wished for a daughter.

"That's nice of her but why would I ever be in New Hampshire? Anyw-"

"Well I don't know honey, that job of yours has you going all over the place and I thou-"

This time I cut her off. "Yeah, okay," I agree with whatever she's about to say, "Anyway, did you or dad call? I had a missed call about 40 minutes ago?"

"Let me shout Burt," I hear as she covers the mouth piece with her hand and shouts my dads name. A few seconds later the familiar gruff voice of my father fills the line and my heart aches to see him.

"Hey Kurt, Finn rang you earlier, how come you didn't answer?"

"I'm at work," I say slightly defensively "and why's Finn ringing me from yours?"

"Already? It was only ten past seven when he rang?" he seems shocked and ignores my question, always thinking I work too hard.

"There is a _five hour_ time difference Dad, it's been seven years, how can you have forgotten that _again_?" I'm exasperated, the first few times he forgot it'd been sort of funny, but now it's just irritating. "I got the call at ten past twelve, and was in a meeting, sorry," I apologise, partly for missing the call and partly for scolding him.

"Oh right, yeah, okay, forgot again I guess… Anyway, he swung by on his way to work to ask for your number, lost yours somehow. Had a favour to ask you, maybe you could give him a call, you got his number?" I sigh; this is ridiculous, and not helping my stress levels.

"Yeah, I've got his number; I'll call him later when I get home, was there anything else?"

"No, that's all son,"

"Okay, talk to you so-"

"You're going to hang up on me? Kurt we haven't spoken in ages…" I can hear how upset he is but I really can't be bothered at the minute.

"Dad, I'm _at work_! I can't just sit and chat with you, I have stuff to do. I'll call you later okay?" He agrees, and we exchange goodbyes before hanging up. I do feel slightly guilty, but I'm really not in the mood for a chat with dad, and I do have a lot to do. I add 'Ring dad and Finn' to my painfully long 'to do' list.

Before getting back to work I remember the voicemail I received, clicking on the unknown number I raise the phone to my ear as I begin idly doodling on the paper in front of me.

"Hey Kurt, it's Blaine," the voicemail starts and I almost drop the phone in surprise. Instead I grip it harder, pressing it closer to my ear and turning the volume up slightly, subconsciously listening for the sound of children in the background. "Sorry it's took me so long to call you," I mentally count back five days since we met so unexpectedly in the park, "but I was a bit preoccupied," _with your children?_ I can't help but think. "Anyway, I was wondering whether you're free some time, maybe we could grab some coffee after work one day?" _He wants to meet for coffee, what does that mean?_ "So, urm, I guess, give me a call when you get this? If you want to meet me that is, I mean… you don't have to if you don't want to… eurgh I hate voice mails," I grin at his nervousness, "I guess that's it then, urm, bye then…" there's a few seconds of silence before he hangs up.

I look at the time he rang; 1.27pm; only a half hour ago. My heart's pounding as I try to decide what this means. He's called me like he said he would, and I hadn't heard any kids in the background. Maybe this means he isn't married to some wonderful, perfect man? But then again maybe he is, and he's just being polite in calling me like he said he would. Maybe I'm just being paranoid; I hope I'm just being paranoid. However, the question now is what do I do?

Do I call him back and arrange to meet for coffee? Do I say I can't meet him and hope he never rings again? Or do I give it a few days before calling back, not wanting to seem overly eager? Or do I not call him back at all?

I press his number in defeat, knowing deep down that as soon as I heard his voice I'd be calling back, whether there was the sound of children in the background or not. I can't just let this go without finding out who those two little girls are. It rings a few times before I hear him answer cheerfully, "Hey Kurt, so you got my excruciatingly awkward voicemail?" he asks through a laugh.

"Urm, hey, yeah I got it, err, how did you know it was me?" I ask stupidly.

"Caller display…" he sounds confused at my question, and I silently grimace at my foolishness.

"Oh right, yeah, makes sense I guess…" I trail off, embarrassed by how much of an idiot I am. Of course it's caller display, it's not like he just _knew_it was me. I mentally punch myself for even thinking that.

I hear him laugh again, he does seem in an awfully good mood, "how about that coffee anyway? Are you free Friday afternoon?"

"Friday? As in… this Friday?" I ask, once again sounding moronic.

"Yeah, unless you're busy, we can do it next week if that's better for you…?" he sounds a little sad at the idea of it being next week, but maybe I'm reading into his voice too much.

"No no, Friday's great, I just didn't think-" I stop myself before I embarrass myself further, taking a deep breath in a weak attempt to calm my heart, "Fridays fine, what time and where?"

"How about same place and time as last week? And we'll just find a coffee shop nearby?" he asks confidently.

"Sounds perfect," I say happily, although inwardly I'm grimacing, this only gives me two days to prepare.

"See you Friday then I guess."

"Yeah, see you Friday," it's clear he's ending the conversation, and I'm more than willing to start saying goodbyes considering how much of a dolt I've made of myself.

"Bye Kurt."

"Bye," I say quietly into my phone, and there are a few seconds of silence before he hangs up, and I wonder whether he wanted to say anything else.


	3. Chapter III

Friday April 26th 2019 

**Kurt**

I've been on edge all day. Fidgeting in my seat and snapping at my colleagues since early morning, most of them have by now gathered that I'm not in the mood to be approached, let alone spoken to. A lot of the time I'm a bit on edge at work, but that's usually because we have a particularly important meeting coming up, or a huge advertising campaign starting, not because I'm internally freaking out over an after work coffee date. _It isn't a date! _I kept telling myself, just coffee, with an old friend, no different to if I'd bumped into Mercedes. _Why am I lying to myself?_ If it was Mercedes I'd be bouncing off my seat with excitement, not skipping lunch because I'm terrified of puking and/or spilling something down my expensive and beautiful Dior shirt I chose to wear today. For no reason in particular.

Every few minutes I glance feverishly at the clock over my door, and I could swear time is mocking me. My emotions are a mess, one moment I'm genuinely excited, looking forward to seeing Blaine, interested to know what he' been doing all these years, but then I'll remember his daughters, as I'm now sure they are, and I'm overwhelmed, feeling as if I'm being swallowed whole by dread. A few times I actually picked up the phone to cancel, but each time I'm overwhelmed with sadness and regret at what happened between us, and the need to finally explain myself after nearly eight years would resurface. This cycle repeats in my head, time speeding up and slowing down dependent on how much I'm dreading seeing him.

The minute hand edges closer to the half past mark. I checked my phone as well, paranoid that the clock is working against me in some twisted way. But the time is the same, no matter how I check it; even my laptop agrees. So with a groan I close the lid of my laptop as my heart begins to hammer, a concoction of emotions whiring through my mind and body. I stand quickly, my eyes suddenly filling with white and black static and my ears humming loudly, drowning out the sounds around me. _'Oh for fucks sake'_ I think as I slump back into my chair, closing my eyes tight as my skull threatens to shatter with pain. I instantly regret not having breakfast or lunch as I wait for the mini-migraine to subside. It only takes a few minutes before my vision comes back and my ears begin to clear, I rub a cold hand tiredly over my face and breathe deeply as the last of the pain passes. _'You need to calm down'_ I tell myself over and over again as I stand, a lot more gently this time, and pull my coat from the back of my chair, slipping it on and heading for the door.

I wave goodbye to the receptionist in the lobby and head out the door into the busy London streets, walking the familiar path towards the park. I weave my way through bodies, coat held tight against the wind before suddenly I gasp, stopping so fast I almost fall, a few people around me glaring and jostling me where I stand. I've just realised I didn't check what I look like in the mirror before leaving, what if my hair's flat? My skin pallid? What if I have bags under my eyes? _Stop worrying,_I emphasise to myself as I begin to walk again, considerably slower, not wanting to turn up an erratic, twitching mess.

I finally reach the park and walk in the direction of where we met this time last week, struck suddenly with how different the atmosphere is. There is no children's laughter filling the air today, the park mostly empty but for a few dog walkers and dedicated runners. Considerably colder as the sun is shrouded in a thick blanket of clouds, the wind icy as it sweeps over my face. The flowers that litter the ground look absurd in the grey light, as so the blossom on the many trees. Huddling my coat closer to my body and wrapping my arms around myself I keep my head down against the wind as I walk. As I get closer to our arranged meeting place I glance up, startled to see Blaine leaning cockily against the back of the bench, his body angled towards me, a huge grin spreading over his face when our eyes meet. I have a feeling he's been watching me approach for a while, waiting for me to look up, and I can't help but grin back. Whenever he smiles; I smile. That much hasn't changed at least.

I finally reach him and notice two coffee cups in his hands, looking at him inquisitively as he hands me one, "I bought them on my way from work, figured they'd keep us warm till we got some more. Why'd we have to pick the coldest day of April to meet in a park?" he asks laughing, sipping his own drink as I lifted the lid to peer into my cup. "Grande non-fat mocha," he confirms for me, "Sorry if that's not your drink anymore I ju-" panic rises like the tide in his voice.

"You remember my coffee order?" I ask before I can stop myself, frowning slightly as I look at him. What does it mean when someone remembers your specific coffee order after nearly eight years?

"Well yeah, I did order it about four times a week for a year," he says mockingly, grinning at me out the corner of his eye as he begins to walk. I follow willingly after him as we head out the park, "It was really strange the first few times I ordered just a medium drip," he adds, glancing up the road as we cross to the other side. I notice there isn't a hint of malice when he speaks, skirting round the edge of our past. I wonder whether this is why he arranged to meet, just to discuss what happened between us, or whether he, like me, is hoping we could be friends. _Or more than friends?_No! I stopped myself before my imagination spirals out of control. I should appreciate the fact he's here with me now, walking by my side, willing to talk to me.

I don't reply, unsure of what to make of his statement, so instead I just follow as he walks purposely through the increasingly crowded streets, heading further and further into the very centre of London. We havn't agreed on a specific place, but from the way he's walking I assume he has somewhere in mind. He then speaks suddenly, as if having read my mind, "There's this really cute café not too far from here that I thought we could go to," He shoots me a winning smile, "I always go there, it's so sweet, you'll love it!" he says enthusiastically. I smile back politely, inwardly hoping it isn't much further as the wind begins to makes my bones shake, the grey clouds ominous and pressing down on us.

"Here we are!" he exclaims suddenly, coming to an abrupt stop outside the quaintest, most charming cafés I've ever seen.

The windows are lined with bunting and large towers of cupcakes, inviting people in with sparkles and icing. He opens the door and nods for me to enter. I walk in and am instantly hit by a wave of warm air and the sweet smell of cake. The counter is wooden and old fashioned, topped with elegant cake stands which in turn are topped with some of the most delicious looking cakes I've ever seen. Another stand holds trays over flowing with chocolate brownies, the one below it bursting with cookies, the other side of the counter piled high with scones.

I grin from ear to ear as my eyes roam hungrily around the room, trying and failing to admire every single adorable detail of the place. In all my years living in England I've never seen a place as quintessentially British as this. The wall paper is flowered and pretty, the tables and chairs mismatched, tills old and metal. The walls hang with vintage pictures and behind the counter the menu's stitched into an old, faded Union Jack, pulled taut and hooked to the wall.

Around the edges of the café chairs are replaced with a continuous bench built into the wall, covered in different sized cushion, all in various designs and patterns. I didn't notice at first, so mesmerized by the small shop, but looking again I see it's practically bursting with people, young couples snuggled into small corners, legs intertwined under the table, parents with their children, trying desperately to keep them calm after the inevitable sugar rush after cake, businessmen dressed in suits, all sipping on theirs coffee, looking out of place yet as equally at peace as the children.

"What _is_this place?" I ask in awe as we join the queue, throwing my empty coffee cup into a bin by the counter as I unwind my scarf from my neck and unbutton my coat. Blaine throws his in afterwards, turning to face me as we stand waiting and smiles at my evident admiration of the little shop. "I feel like I'm in a Lewis Carroll novel," I think aloud as I peel my jacket from my shoulders, slinging it and my scarf over my arm.

His eyes roam not very covertly over my shoulders and slightly exposed collar bones, and I'm sure he doesn't realise I've noticed before he chuckles and speaks, "I know right, I always come here wi-" his speech falters for briefest second before continuing, "whenever I'm in this part of the city," he looks away from me, pretending to read the menu, obviously hoping I hadn't noticed his slip up. _With __who?_I want to ask, _who do you come here with? Do you snuggle up together in a corner and whisper how much you love each other? Do you share a slice of cake and then wipe frosting from the corners of his lips? Do you leave hand-in-hand and go home together?_

I sigh unintentionally loudly and out of the corner of my eye see Blaine glance at me frowning, looking slightly sadder. We reach the counter and he speaks before I can, "hey Katie," He greets the young girl, "I'll have my usual, a grande non-fat mocha, and…" he elongates the last word as his eyes rove eagerly over the cakes on display, "Want to go halves on some cake?" he asks turning to me. I nod happily, unable to resist seeing the smile it would inevitably bring to his face. He grins, "Which one d-"

"I don't mind," I say, and if possible his grin grows even wider as he points to the most extravagant chocolate cake I've ever seen. The girl smiles knowingly at him, and I wonder whether that was part of his usual order as well. Our coffees arrive and I pull my wallet out to pay before Blaine even has a chance. I see him open his mouth to protest, "No, these are on me, you bought the last ones," I say defiantly, handing over the money. "And… I seem to remember you paid for the time before that as well," I joke, hoping he realises the reference to our past is only meant teasingly. Picking up my coffee I glance around for a space.

"Fine, in that case, next time you get to chose the cake!" he says defiantly, not looking at me but smiling none the less as he too scans the room for spare seats. He'sacting as if we do this everyday, not as if this is the first time we've spoke in years. I stare at him confused for a moment as his words begin to register, there's going to be a next time? He disrupts my trail of thoughts as he exclaims, "over there," and begin to walk towards an empty space. It's in the corner; secluded, a small table squeezed cosily into the right angle of the benches lining the walls. Has he intentionally chose one of the most snug, intimate tables? Or is it genuinely the only one he could see? I push the thought to the back of my mind, internally scolding myself for over analyzing every move he makes and word he says.

We sit down in silence, our knees bumping beneath the table, causing me to almost flinch as I move away from the contact. He seems to have no reaction what-so-ever to it, and if anything seems to purposely _not_ move his legs away from mine. It feels awkward to me, but he seems nothing but relaxed, looking at me through thick, dark eyelashes, eyes smouldering, the dark honey colour overly prominent against the pure white sclera. I feel lost looking into his eyes, so frighteningly familiar; the eyes of a friend, a lover, and it feels as though he can see right into my heart, while at the same time they're the eyes of a complete stranger with the ability to completely tear me apart. I'm shaken from my trance when I see his eyebrows arc questioningly, and I glance down, noticing for the first time that he's holding a fork out to me. I take it with whispered thanks, taking a tentative bite of the cake, inwardly wondering how long I'd been staring at him for.

Distracting myself from thinking about his beautiful eyes, I let my eyes wander around the room again, and for the first time I notice writing on the wall opposite, painted in thick, black, swirly lettering on the light blue walls, the words;

_**'For I have known them all already, known them all:-  
>Have known the evening, mornings, afternoons,<br>I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;'**_

The words _'coffee spoons' _are written in white instead of black, standing out even more amongst the black lettering. "What's this place called?" I ask curiously, still staring at the words.

"'Coffee Spoons', why?" Blaine asks looking up. He follows my line of sight to the opposite wall and grins as he turns back to me. "It's Eliot," he says with pride, as if that makes all the sense in the world.

"Pardon?" I ask, frowning in confusion as I practically burn beneath his sun-bright smile.

"T.S. Eliot? Probably _the_most famous poet of the 20th century…" his smile morphs to disbelief as he stares incredulously, dropping his fork onto the plate with a clatter before pushing both his hands across the table, closer to my own, as if to share knowledge through his fingertips. "Come on Kurt, you can'thave_ not_ heard of Eliot!" He seems playfully irritated as he stares intensely. I feel a nervous as his eye search mine.

"Not ringing any bells, sorry," I shrug at him, "Since when are you into poetry anyway?" I ask somewhat teasingly, tearing my eyes from his as I take a bite of cake, his gaping becoming a little too concentrated for me to be comfortable with.

"I'm an English Lit teacher, an interest in poetry is sort of vital to the job," he says with a smirk. I open my mouth to speak, a hundred questions erupting in my mind, but he continues before I have a chance, "'Let us go then, you and I,'?" he seems to question, and my confusion only increases as I continued to stare at him, "'When the evening is spread out against the sky'" his eyebrows arc dubiously as if he can't believe what he's hearing. His mouth remains open an inch, unsure of what to say next. "Like a patient etherized upon a table;'" He finally says, hands tensing atop the table, palms facing up, as if waiting for my response to drop into his hands, obviously hoping to see a spark of recognition in my eyes, but I'm more confused than ever. "Are you serious Kurt, you've never heard this before?" he finally asks, all mocking gone, replaced by complete scepticism.

"Seriously, I have absolutely no idea what on _Earth_ you're talking about, and what do you mean you're an English teacher? Since when? Where'd'you teach?" I ramble, trying desperately to get my confusion across to him.

The conversation seems to come easily, running freely, my confusion and his sarcasm mixing wonderfully together, making us both relaxed and comfortable in each others company. "I can't believe you've never heard The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" he states, shaking his head in shock. "And I started teaching when I moved to England, I didn't really want to, but, I needed a job and a school near where I live needed an English teacher, so…" he trails off, no more explanation needed as he returns to our cake, "I still can't belie-"

"I know, it's very shocking that I haven't heard the 'Love Poem of Alfred' or whatever it was," I say quickly, he opens his mouth to protest but I carry on talking over what I'm sure would be a long, possibly angry, poetry related rant. "Maybe later you can amaze me with his awesomeness, but I need to ask, why did you move to England in the first place?" I ask slower, "you didn't get a chance to say last week before you had to go," I add, taking a sip of my mocha. His expression changes so suddenly that it's almost impossible to believe the happy, laughing expression from earlier belongs to the same person as this grief stricken face. I hurriedly speak, scared of the look that's settled on his features, "If you don't want to talk about it, whatever it is, it's fine, I just thought- I just wondered why, I mean-" I stop speaking abruptly, having no idea what I want to say; what I was trying to say. My curiosity peaks, I ache to know why he moved now more than ever, and yet a tiny part of me worries about the pain it seems to cause him.

"Kurt, stop rambling, it's a completely reasonable question," he says with a returning smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's just it's a bit of a… long story to say the least, and I'm sure you've better things to do than sit here and listen to me lament about my past," I hear the sarcasm that subtly laces his words, but below that I hear the deep sadness which to echoes in each syllable.

"I've all the time in the world, if you want to tell me. But if you don't that's fine too," I say lamely, having no idea where this conversation is going, or where I want it to go.

He shrugs, eats the last piece of cake and takes a large gulp of his drink before he next speaks, and I can't help but think he was buying time, giving himself a chance to think. "I don't really know where to start Kurt, I mean, would you rather hear the shorter version, or do you want the whole story?"

"I'll hear whatever you're most comfortable with, you don't have to tell me anything at all if you don't want to, I only asked out of politeness, I didn't know -"

"Why are you acting so weird?" he suddenly asks, a hint of frustration diluting into the words.

"I – I didn't know I was," I stutter.

"Yeah, you're all tense and overly apologetic. And you're acting all formal, like, how you're sat and stuff… I don't want this to be awkward Kurt, it just _us,_ I'm still _me,_this isn't uncomfortable to me, I just think it's nice that we can actually sit and have a civil conversation, don't you think?"

I decide he's right. I do need have to relax; I can practically feel my blood pressure rising with everything word spoken. So I loosen my shoulders, allowing them to slump slightly, moving my legs to be more comfortable, my left leg unintentionally sliding a couple of inches between his before I settle. I take a deep breath and stare directly at him as I let out a heavy sigh, causing him to grin. "Better?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

I nod with a gentle laugh, feeling considerably more relaxed, despite our legs being so close that I can feel heat radiating off him, and despite him having leant in so close to talk that I can practically _taste_ him in the air as I inadvertently lick my lips. I notice his eyes dart down, quick as lightening to trace the outline of my lips before his eyes settle, dilated on my own. "So, the long version, or the short?" he asks simply, and suddenly I'm scared. What is this story going to involve? What is so huge as to make him move to England? Could it be about a guy? Do I want to hear it if it is?

"The long," I say eventually. I then wait in anticipation, watching as he gathers his thoughts before opening his mouth to speak, looking up at me as he does so, his eyes so full of grief and sadness that I almost gasp before his story begins.


	4. Chapter IV

**A/N: Remember to check the dates so you know what's going on…**

Saturday October 15th 2016

**Blaine**

I'm lying on my side in bed, right arm bent and tucked beneath my head, thin sheet draped across my waist. A cool breeze sweeps along the walls and across the room through an open window, settling on my exposed skin. Pale moonlight streams in, falling eerily upon the body that lies beside me. Insomnia has taken hold of me like it sometimes does and I've reverted to my usual past time of admiring the familiar creature alongside me.

He lies on his back, the pale light illuminating his equally pale skin, his face half in darkness and half in light, casting his profile into silhouette. I can see his mass of dark blonde hair, sprawled messily against the pillow, the small dome of his forehead and the valley of his nose reaching a peak before dipping to the curves of his lips. His eyes twitch slightly as he dreams, long eyelashes flickering, spindly shadows lining his eyelids. The sharp point of his chin contrasts hugely with the gradual, beautiful curve of his long neck, the slight bump of his Adam's apple interrupting the sweeping expanse of skin which stretches down to the base of his neck, pulled tight against his collarbone, and over the vast desert of his hairless chest.

Sometimes it feels like he's the only stable thing in my life. I finished college over a year ago, and threw myself into auditions, everything from theatre to film. I've been struggling non stop with money, working in bars as both a performer and bar staff during and after college, and not once have I had more money coming in than going out. I've moved from apartment to apartment, never able to settle in one place longer than a couple of months before the costs get too much and I have to move. My family life is, as always, dangling on a knives edge, my relationship with my parents constantly shifting from a state of unease to complete chaos.

It didn't take long for my excitement and eagerness after leaving college to dwindle. In the first few months I'd walk into an audition full of life, full of enthusiasm and hope. But now when I enter an audition nervousness and depression seems to seep into my core. What if I never got a job I enjoy? What if I was a barman for the rest of my life? What if I'm forever only good enough for the small stage of a Los Angeles bar?

Liam and I met while we were both at UCLA, him in his final year while I was in my second studying English. We met in the library, where I'd been pouring over piles of books for hours, researching for an upcoming essay, not having slept in two days. I'd fallen asleep; my head nestled into an open book. He poked me awake and laughed loud enough for us both to be asked to leave, and once out he'd insisted on walking me home, to make sure I didn't collapse on the way through exhaustion he'd said. Two weeks later we were officially dating. And three years later we're still laying peacefully side by side, a smile graces my face as this thought crosses my mind.

My happy reminiscing is interrupted by the shrill sound of my phone, piercing the silent night. Liam grumbles, rolling onto his side, his back now facing me as I sit up and swing my legs off the bed, grabbing my phone from the bedside table. The time reads just after 1am and the word _'Mum'_illuminates my screen. I answer as I bring it to my ear and stand up, "Hello?" I whisper, not wanting to disturb Liam more than necessary. I pull the bedroom door gently shut behind me as I wander into the pitch black living room. I realise it must be just gone four in the morning in Ohio, and my curiosity jumps.

"Hey sweetie," she speaks so quietly that I have to strain my ears to make out her voice, increasing the volume on my phone to its maximum. I can't remember the last time my mum used a pet name for me.

"Hey Mum, is everything okay?" I ask. The last time we spoke was over a month ago, and it hadn't been the most amicable of conversations.

I hear a loud sniff followed by a stifled cough, "No," I hear a deep, trembling intake of breath. "Everything's not okay, I-I'm so sorry honey," My heart begins to pound a little quicker as my mind goes into overload.

"What is it? Is it Dad?" I quickly question.

"Where are you? Are you alone?" Why do these things matter?

"I… I'm at home, with Liam, but he's asleep, seriously Mum what's going on?" Normally at the mention of my boyfriends name my mother would huff or grumble something under her breath, but this time there's nothing. She doesn't even acknowledge I've mentioned him.

"I think you should sit down before I tell you, it's – it's about Sophie and Will" My heart plunges at the mention of my older sister and her husbands names, "are you sat down?" she asks quietly, her voice quivering.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sat down; now tell me what this is all about!" I'm stood in the centre of the living room, having stopped mid way towards the sofa; my eyes are wide with anticipation as I stare into the darkness of the night and the unknown.

"I- They…" I hear her trying to stifle a sob, "We got a call from a hospital in London," Her voice is so quiet and gentle, almost impossible to hear over the pounding of my own heart, the rush of blood in my ears.

"They're in hospital? Why? What's…?" I stop talking, my heart hammering, I can physically feel it beating against my rib cage as my blood pumps manically around my body, providing adrenaline to every cell, every muscle fibre, every sense is heightened as I wait, my eyes spread wide but seeing nothing, my ears straining listening for my mothers voice, my hands trembling and my mouth dry.

"They've been in a car accident, I- I'm so sorry Blaine, th-" she's gasping for air, "They both died, I can't-"" she sobs down the phone, and I feel the earth fall from below me, the phone drops from my hand as my legs buckle and I crash to the floor, my knees collide with the hard wood floor with my entire body weight behind them. My body crushes into itself, every inch of me numb. I feel sick building in the back of my throat, causing me to heave, my entire body shaking with shock, and pain, and hate for the world.

I can still hear the murmur of my mother's voice on my discarded phone, but I can't bring myself to bother to find it. A hand rises instinctively to cover my mouth as a cry of pain escapes, the other cradling my stomach in a feeble attempt to hold myself together, because I'm falling apart. My back arches over my knees as I press my head as far into the ground as I can, pushing further into myself, further into the earth, hoping to be swallowed whole, hoping to wake from this nightmare. Tears fall warm and salty down my cheeks and neck as my eyes fall shut in anguish. The hand that covers my mouth moves up my face, the palm pressing warm and sweaty against my forehead as I dig my nails into my scalp, hoping to cause enough physical pain to override the emotional.

Suddenly I'm not alone as gentle, warm, bare arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling my upper body up and twisting me around, dragging my limp, heaving, shaking body onto his lap, Liam engulfs me completely in his arms. I began to cry in earnest then, huge, gut wrenching sobs echoing from my shuddering body as I bury my head into the crook of his shoulder, tears running down my face, and his neck as I press hungrily closer. He's found my phone and brought it to his ear as he begins to rock my trembling body, "Mrs. Anderson?" He questions.

I hear a voice on the phone, and recognise it as my fathers. "Okay," Liam says, I'm unable to make out what my dad's saying, and I don't really care. All I can think about is my beautiful sister, her smile, her laugh, her sense of humour which perfectly matched mine, everything about her suddenly filling my mind. The shade of her eyes and the pitch of her voice, the way she raised one eyebrow in disdain, the way her hugs could fix the biggest of problems. The way she always loved me, always accepted me, always cared enough to call me, the huge arguments she'd had with our parents because she was the only one who loved me enough to fight for me, for my rights. "We'll see you tomorrow sir, and I'm so sorry for your loss," I zoned out for the majority of the conversation, but looked up when I saw him hang up and put my phone of the coffee table just within reach.

"What… tomorrow?" I try to form a question but my voice quivers and cracks when I speak, and I'm afraid to open my mouth too long in case the vomit burning the back of my throat becomes too much to keep forcing back down.

"We're flying to London tomorrow," he says softly, looking directly at me, the arm around my shoulders squeezing tightly as he strokes my hairline gently with one finger. I close my eyes at this simple sign of love, but not before I notice tears welling in his eyes as well, "Baby I'm so sorry," he saus as he squeezes me tighter to him. I don't question any further, but just allow myself to be cradled by him as he rocks me soothingly back and forth, my body still shaking uncontrollably as sobs echo from deep within me.

I don't know how long we sat there, but the next morning I wake up in our bed, a familiar burning sensation in the back of my throat, building rapidly before I lunge my head over the side of the bed and throw up. Liam comes rushing in, just in time to rub my back soothingly as I heave the entire contents of my stomach onto the floor. I try to stand up but he just pushes me back down gently, I look at him apologetically but he just smiles sadly back as he leaves to get something to clean the carpet with. I'm covered in sweat and the sheet clings to me; I sit up very slowly, pushing it off and breathing heavily as I try to cool down. My whole body seems to ache, my knee's are tender when I move, my thighs dotted in large, oddly shaped bruises, my stomach now stings with pain from being sick, my shoulders and arms ache unexplainably and my skin feels rough and dry, my eyes felt like sandpaper, and my head pounds with a dull headache.

I then notice the two suitcases sat by the bedroom door, and I frown, remembering something about London. "Are we-" I cough to clear my throat, and strain to raise it loud enough to be heard, "Are we leaving today?" he walks back in as I finish the question, a pint glass of iced water in one hand, and a large bucket of soapy water in the other.

"If you feel up to it, I told your parents we would, but we can go tomorrow if you'd prefer," He places the water in my clammy hands and I gulp it down hungrily, and then hold the icy glass against my forehead, revelling in the cold chill it sends down my spine. He's down on his hands and knees at my feet, scrubbing the carpet roughly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "let me," I offer, dropping to the floor from where I'm sat on the edge of the bed, I move to take the cloth from his hand but he just smiles nudges me away.

"Don't even try it okay? And don't apologise. Do you want anything to eat, or d'you not feel up to it?" he sits back on his knees, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on his pale skin from scrubbing as he looks down at me where I'm slumped against the bed. I look into his pale grey eyes and shake my head, knowing he won't try and force me to eat. "Alright," he sighs loudly, still looking me dead in the eye, "I – did you want to talk about it, or…" he stops at my fervent head shaking, and instead reaches out and grasps one of my hands in both of his. "I love you so much, you know that right?" I stop shaking my head and smile at him. "I erm, booked us some flights," he glances at the clock, "we don't have to leave for about an hour, if you want to go back sleep and I'll finish packing?"

"No, no, I'll help. I couldn't sleep again anyway, just, what do I need to do?" I feel so lost, confused and helpless. I need someone to guide me.

"Why don't you go and take a shower, get yourself dressed, I'm pretty sure I've packed everything you'll need, so once you're ready we'll get going, but don't rush baby, we've got plenty of time." I nod, glad that he at least knows what to do. He stands up, offering me his hands. I take them willingly, allowing him to heave me from the floor, he keeps his hands in mine a moment longer and squeezes them both.

"Have you left me any-" I start to ask when he cuts me off, knowing me well enough to guess my question.

"On the top of the drawers," he nods towards the small pile of clothes he's not packed. I thank him with a smile and he kisses me gently on the cheek before I make my way to the shower. Picking up the pile of clothes I notice that they're my favourite grey sweatpants, loose fitting and a little too long, making them snug and cosy, and a loose fitting black, long sleeved top. I frown, wondering how he knows I'd have wanted long sleeves. "I know you like to pull the sleeves over your hands and chew the fabric when you're scared," he says from where he's still stood in the door way.

I'm surprised; not even knowing that about myself, I just know long sleeves make me feel safer, I didn't realise I chewed on them, or that he'd noticed, "thanks," I say gratefully as I head into the bathroom.

Walking out after my shower I feel slightly refreshed and a lot more awake and aware. The suitcases have been moved to the front door, and my black hoodie lies on top of one, I grab it, pulling it onto my aching shoulders and zipping it to mid way up my chest. "You ready?" Liam's voice suddenly asks behind me. I mutter a yes as I slid my feet into my comfiest shoes and open the front door, stepping out into the warm Los Angeles morning, my suitcase dragging behind me. There's a taxi already waiting at the end of our drive, and I marvel at how well organised my boyfriend is.

The drive to LAX is non descript, as is our journey through the airport and security, so before long we're seated on the plane, listening to the captains announcement as he wishes us a 'pleasant flight'. I grimace at the thought and pull my hood up to try and shield my ears from his voice as I stare wistfully out the small window, holding Liam's hand in my right hand. As soon as the plane's in the air and the seatbelt lights ping off, I flick up the arm rest between us, pull my knees up to my chest and I turn to face him shuffling closer. I wrap both my hug his left arm with both of mine and bury my face into the soft fabric of his jumper, small whimpers occasionally shaking from my body. But each time Liam just rubs methodical circles on my shoulder, my back, my hands until my body stills and I fall into a fitful sleep. I lose most of the flight to sleep, and before I realise how much time has passed I'm being gently shaken awake and tiredly escorted off the plane, through the airport.

It's when we finally walk through the arrivals gate and I see my parents waiting that realisation properly hits me and I remember why we're here. They're stood slightly away from the other waiting people, eyes intently scanning the faces of those arriving, until they settle on mine. I hurry forward, breaking away from Liam, as does my mum breaking away from my father and we rush to each other and embrace fiercely.

I can't remember the last time she hugged me; it must have been years ago, before I came out, I would have been about 14, small and weak, unwilling to stand up for myself at school, instead taking refuge with my mother at home while other teenage boys were playing football at the park. And yet here I stand, at 22, her small arms encompassing me once again. Except this time I'm taller than her, with broad shoulders and long muscled arms, but despite these changes I've never felt so small and helpless. I've never felt more grateful of my mothers embrace. We pull apart eventually, both of us with silent tears streaming down our cheeks. I turn to face my dad, whose instead staring at Liam stood a few feet away, our suitcases at his side as he waits for me to introduce him.

"Dad…" I say, he tears his eyes away from Liam and looks down at me, the first time we've seen each other for over a year. The first time we've seen each other since he slammed the door in my face.

"Oh Blaine," He says, striding forward and crushing me in his arms, I can't move because he's holding me so tightly, but also through shock. Eventually I build up enough courage to wrap my arms gingerly around him. The hug lasts only a fraction of what the one with my mum did, but it's a revelation none-the-less. I can see unshed tears welling in his eyes as he blinks them back, staring unwaveringly at me, an unsaid apology in his eyes. I accept that this is the best I'm going to get.

Then I remember Liam, still stood a few feet away waiting. "Oh, I- er- sorry, Mum, Dad, this is Liam, who I erm… told you about," I say awkwardly, walking over to him. I smile reassuringly at his nervous expression. He's never met my parents before, but he knows well enough how they feel about me being gay, so it's understandable that he's anxious. I wind my hand into his and gently pull him forward, towards my mother.

"Hello, it's er, nice to meet you Mrs. Anderson," he says after receiving a fleeting hug from her. "I- I'm so sorry about Sophie, and William," he says earnestly. Then my father steps forward and I'm filled with apprehension, I've only had one boyfriend before Liam and my parents had never known about him, they always thought we were just friends.

"Liam," my father says authoritatively, holding his hand out. Liam takes it without hesitation, and I have to hide a smile as they size each other up. Liam is easily as tall as my father if not taller, handshake just as firm, chest broad and well muscled.

"Nice to finally meet you Mr. Anderson," He says, and it sounds genuine. My father nods in agreement, although he isn't able to fully disguise a small sneer that lingers for the briefest second on his features. He then drops his hand and turns to walk away. I smile sadly at Liam who just shrugs. We both grab our suitcases and follow my parents out of the airport, him grasping my hand so tightly that it becomes numb.

The next few days pass in a blur. Mother told me the story as she'd been told it by Will's parents. Apparently Sophie and Will had been driving home Saturday morning from staying at a friends after a house warming party, their first real night out in a year since their daughter had been born. Will's parents were staying at their home in London babysitting for the night; they'd got the call at 9am, asking them to come to the hospital. They'd been involved in a five car pile up on the motorway into London. There were no survivors.

I can honestly say I've cried more since arriving in London than I have in the past four years combined. I feel constantly exhausted but never able to sleep, I've forgotten what it feels like to _not_ have a headache, and the few times I've been able to momentarily forget why I'm here have been blissful, before I'm hit with realisation and depression seeps through me all over again. Time seems to pass much faster than usual.

William's parents are still staying in my sister's house where they're looking after my niece who I was briefly introduced to for the first time a few days ago. I selfishly forgot about her in the haze of my own depression. But when I saw her for the first time I was hit with a deep sadness, just over a year old and already orphaned. My parents have argued about what will happen to her; my mother wants to take her home to Ohio, while my father agreed with Will's parents that she should be moved to Cornwall to live with them. It's an argument they have practically every day, and one I've promised myself to not get involved in, as far as I'm concerned no matter who she lives with her life is already screwed. No one has an easy life after this sort of shit happens to them so young.

The funeral is on the 24th, and it passes in a haze. For the most part I'm disconnected, lead willingly by Liam who never once lets go of me, holding my hand or grasping my elbow, pressing a reassuring hand to the base of my spine. All I remember of the service itself is the two matching black coffins at the front of the church in the centre of the aisle. I couldn't take my eyes off them. I couldn't stop thinking about the pale bodies within them. After what felt like a lifetime we were stood in a cold grey cemetery, the weather perfectly reflecting my mood, and another lifetime later I was sat in the corner of a hired room in the hotel where we were staying, a glass of water in my hand as people I don't know come and apologise over and over again for my 'loss'.

They tell me how wonderful my sister was, what a wonderful couple her and William had made, how they were the last people in the world to deserve what'd happened. I nod politely as they speak and thank them before they leave, but inside I'm screaming. Of course I know Sophie was wonderful and perfect and beautiful! Of course I know Will was a brilliant man, a wonderful husband and an outstanding father. I know all these things, they were my family, and I love them, they deserved all the happiness in the world but got the exact opposite.

Slowly the numbers start to dwindle as people left, shaking my parents and Will's parents' hands one last time. That night I slept sporadically, constantly waking from terrible nightmares and then falling asleep again with tears streaming down my face.

Tuesday October 25th 2016

**Blaine**

I'm woken by the harsh ringing of my phone. "Can you come over to Sophie's? Her and Will's solicitor is here and wants to talk to you," my mum says, sounding irritated and high strung, completely different from how she'd been yesterday, this is the mother I'm more used to.

"Me? What about?" I ask confused, sitting up from bed, Liam looking at me questioningly as I wait for a response.

"He's here to discuss their will, can you just come over as quickly as possible? We're all waiting and he wont talk until 'all parties are present'," she bites back, and I can hear the sarcasm laced into the last words as she no doubt quotes the solicitor.

"Urm, yeah, sure, sorry, what's the address?" I ask quickly, jumping up and crossing to the suitcase I haven't bothered to unpack. I pull a reasonably crease free shirt from clothes and shrug it half on, switching my phone to my other hand to pull on the other arm. Liam's out of bed as well, beginning to pull on clothes. She tells me the address and I say goodbye, promising to get there as soon as possible.

"What is it?" Liam questions, pulling on his jeans.

"A solicitor wants to talk about their will, mum sounded pretty annoyed."

"You're in their will?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I shrug, zipping the fly of my jeans as I sling my jacket over my shoulders and head for the door, glancing briefly in the mirror at my exhausted face. Liam follows closely behind, and before long we're sat in a London taxi, heading towards my sisters house in Wandsworth. I jump out the car as soon as it stops outside the address; Liam pays quickly and follows me up the steps of my sister's home, a place I'd never had the pleasure to visit while they were alive. I bang heavily on the door.

If I wasn't in such a rush I might've stopped to admire the house more. The pale blue walls and crisp white door, which is swung unceremoniously open by my mother, promptly rushing me into the living room; I glance around the hall quickly as I'm shuffled through. It's small and cramped but cosy, one wall filled with a collage of pictures of the young couple, ranging from when they were first dating, right up to their daughters first birthday. I hear Liam follow after me and close the door quietly before walking into the living room, standing behind where I've been forced to sit by my mother, his hands massaging my shoulders relaxingly. I see the fleeting glare my father sends our way when he sees the loving gesture before his attention is caught by the solicitor speaking.

"Thank you for finally joining us Mr. Anderson, we can get started at last," he says a little coldly as he stares at me. I don't flinch at the look in his eyes, I've faced much worse. I look around the room and see that it's was only me and the parents present, Wills mum sat on the smaller sofa with Ava, my niece, on her knee sleeping, while her husband leans against the armrest. My parents are sat on a slightly larger sofa, while I occupy the only single seat, the solicitor stood awkwardly in front of us all.

"Okay, so this is a bit of an unorthodox way of dealing with a will, but I thought it would be the easiest given that half of those involved live so far away. And of course the question of custody of Ava needs discussing and I feel it is only right to do that with the full attention of all involved parties," he says quickly, his eyes scanning the faces in front of him. "First I'd like to deal with the other things though," he then says, ignoring my mothers frown.

"So, to William Johnson Senior, your son has left you, and I quote, 'the beaten up old Jag we fixed together for my 18th birthday' along with, to the both of you, his percentage share in the vintage car business he was a co owner of," he smiles at Will's parents sadly as he hands the paper to Will's father for him to read himself before signing. I'm confused to see the man stood in front of us so relaxed while reading from a dead couples will, but then I remember he does this all the time, and to him our family is no different from the last, and will be no different to the next.

"Lastly, to their daughter Ava-"

"Hold on a minute!" My mother interrupts, staring incredulously from my father to the solicitor and back again, "what d'you mean, 'lastly to Ava', how about us? Does it say nothing about us in there?" I try to block my mother's voice out as my mind wanders. Why am I even here, I feel like asking, this has just been a depressing waste of time. I'd been looking forward to flying back to LA tomorrow and getting away from my parents and this whole mess. I need some schedule and normality in my life to get me back on track.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Anderson, I'm just reading what William and Sophie have written here themselves, there's nothing I can do to change it, it's just my job to see it through to the end," he says monotonously, obviously used to dealing with selfish people, whether it's parents, children, grand children, whoever it was I'm sure he's met them all before, just out looking for extra cash. Although I'm sure this isn't everything my mum wants, maybe she's upset that Will had made an effort to leave his parents something sentimental, while Sophie had obviously done no such thing. She slumps back in her chair after the rebuke and grumbles something inaudible to my father, who nods, his lips pursed.

"Lastly, to their daughter Ava," he repeats, "they wish to leave everything else, that being inclusive of their property and everything contained within it, as well as the full and complete value of both their individual and shared bank accounts," he sighs loudly, his eyes focusing on the sleeping child in Will's mother's arms. I looked at her again, and am hit with the startling resemblance to my older sister, dark curly hair, a cute little nose, even while sleep her face looks defiant and stubborn, making me smile sadly. She'll never know the woman who she looks so much like.

The solicitor begins to speak again, shaking me from my thoughts as I turn to pay him my full attention. "Regarding custody of Ava, Sophie and Will agreed upon and have written who they wished to become her legal guardian in the event of their death. They did tell me during the writing up of the will that they never officially asked, but I don't suppose they ever thought they'd have to," He sighs again, and I realise he would've known my sister and brother-in-law reasonably well, and although on a strictly professional level, it still couldn't be easy for him to stand in front of a clients family and essentially take to pieces and give away a couples life, no matter how many times he'd done it before.

"It was their wish that in the event of Ava being too young to care for herself, as is the case, that all of their belongings which have been left to her, as mentioned before, should therefore pass onto the person whom they wish to take full custody of her," my mother leans forward in her seat, Will's parents also seem to become more tense as the solicitor nears the information they've all been waiting for. "So finally, as written here, both Sophie and William Johnson agreed that in the event of their death, full and complete custody of their daughter, Ava Johnson goes to Blaine Anderson, brother of the deceased Sophie Johnson."

My mouth drops open in shock, heart beginning to hammer as my eyes almost pop from their sockets. I glance up at Liam, equally frozen, before my eyes find the bundle of limbs and soft skin and curly hair that is now, apparently, mine to care for.

"What!" my mother practically screams, waking the child in question with her shout as she jumps up in shock, glaring at the man in front of her. Silence overwhelms the room for a matter of seconds until she explodes with the only thing she seems able to say, "but he's gay!" she screams at the solicitor as she points at me.

And if I wasn't in so much shock I would be hugely insulted, but I just can't take my eyes off the little girl wakeing against her grandmother, rubbing her eyes with plump little fists.

Luckily the solicitor stands up for me and retaliates unblinkingly, "I think you'll find Mrs. Anderson, that an individual's sexual orientation has no effect on their parenting skills," he shoots back scathingly. "And your son will be treated exactly the same as any other person in the same situation." He glares at my mother as she glances disbelievingly from him to my father, whose face is red with fury. The solicitor then turns his attention to me after scowling at my mother again. "Now, Blaine," he begins, his voice softer, "there is a lot that needs discussing, most importantly though is the question of whether you wish to take on full custody. Would you like to discuss the situation here or somewhere more welcoming?" he asks me directly, glowering at my mother as he says the last part. I can't think of what to say, words catching in my throat as my thoughts battle for dominance. I can't comprehend what to do, who to look at or even what to think. I feel like I've been hit by a train as confusion and surprise continues to hit me over and over again.

"I'm er, happy to discuss it here, I guess, but I- I don't know what to say, I'm so confused," I say weakly. Liam's hands are squeezing my shoulders tightly, and I'm sure he's just as shocked and scared as me. What does this mean for us?

"Alright then," the solicitor says, ignoring the sounds of bickering from my parents, "we'll begin with the obvious question, do you want to take full custody of your niece, or not?" he sits down on the coffee table in front of me, staring at me intently. I feel the eyes of every person in the room burn me as they wait for a response, but I just stare back, unblinking, as my brain tries to make sense of the situation I've suddenly been thrown into.


	5. Chapter V

Friday April 26th 2019

**Kurt**

My eyes are wide with shock as I stare at Blaine as he speaks, telling me the story of his sisters and brother-in-laws death, the trip to London with his boyfriend, the funeral and the wake afterwards. The meeting with the solicitor is the point we're at now, and I realise it really is a long story, a long story with a lot still to be explained.

So far I've been able to control myself, stopping myself from asking questions which may be too sensitive, or just none of my business, most of them relating to this Liam guy. But this time my mind gets the better of me and despite the million other questions burning the tip of my tongue, I whisper, "Did you?"

He looks up at me from where he's been staring at the table. I can see tears glistening in his eyes, and before I think about what I'm doing, before my mind even registers the movement, I've grasped both his hands fiercely in mine, squeezing them so tight my arms almost shake with the force. I feel the warmth of his skin seep into the coldness of mine, the slight clamminess of his palm against my fingertips, and on my own palm the rough callous' on the tips of each of his fingers. I wonder whether I've over stepped an invisible line when he looks away from my face and instead down at our fused hands, but he doesn't pull back, so neither do I. "Did I what Kurt?" he finally asks, his eyes once again connecting forcefully with mine, scorched hazel into ocean blue. Fire and water.

Watching him open up to me, so vulnerable and breakable, I want nothing more than to lean over and pull him to me, to cradle him in my arms, to kiss away all his pain. But I don't, instead I gulp back the lump in my throat and ask quietly, "Did you take custody?"

He almost smiles when he replies, the smallest twitch of his lips, "what else would be big enough for me to move to London?" he asks with the smallest chuckle .My eyes widen even further, mouth dropping open as my mind tries to form a comprehensible sentence. He laughs a little at the look on my face as I shake my head to try and clear it, managing to close my mouth as my head almost explodes with questions. "Did you honestly think I'd say no?" he asks eventually, frowning slightly, his hands still holding mine across the table. I feel the slight change in pressure as my hands relax in his but he continues to clutch mine as if at any moment I could slip away.

"I- well, no, I don't suppose I did, I just, can't imagine you saying yes either," I admit truthfully, hoping he doesn't get the wrong idea as I try desperately to wipe away the shock still stapled across my face.

Tears have almost completely left his eyes now, and he smiles at me before speaking again, "Well, I said yes, and moved to London, moved into their house, the rest is pretty self explanatory I suppose," he shrugs, breaking eye contact for the first time in a few minutes as he loosens his grip and withdraws his hands to begin idly fiddling with his coffee cup, eyes trained resolutely on his now empty hands.

I pull my hands back, which feel unusually cold after the warmth of his clinging to them. I divert my eyes to over his shoulder, staring out the window, eyes trained on the people passing by but not really watching them, eyebrows knitted together as the cogs in my brain churn quickly, putting two and two together. I've been so involved in his story that I completely forgot about my initial reason for wanting to speak to him. To find out about the mysterious children with him on the park, but when I remember I'm hit with a sudden understanding and relief mixed with surprise, and I can't control the tiny 'oh' that trickles from my slightly parted lips.

"What?" he asks, looking up at me while I stare over his shoulder, my lips still parted and my brow lined with realisation. "What is it?" he nudges me playfully under the table with his knee as he asks, awakening me from my trance. My eyes slide lazily back to focus on his before I speak.

"That's who the little girl was," I say slowly, still a little confused. This explains the smaller, dark haired girl, but who's the blonde girl? Liam's daughter? Blaine's eyes widen in surprise, but I speak before he has a chance, "I saw her, on the park I mean, I turned as I left and saw you walk away with her… with them," I correct the last part as my brain works furiously to fit the older girl into the equation.

"Oh, right…" Blaine says quietly, looking unsure of what to say.

"But I don't understand," he looks up questioningly, "who the older, blonde girl is…?" I trail off, unsure whether I'm asking a question, or just stating my confusion. I then wonder whether I've gone too far, but it's too now late. So I wait, the words settling in the air around us.

"Oh, Molly!" He says seeming relieved at being able to explain something, "she's just a friend of Ava's, she comes over to play every other Friday, and then the next week Ava goes to hers. That's where she is now," he explains, and I realise this is why he was more reluctant to go for coffee next week. I nod slowly as pieces of the puzzle began to knit together.

I let my eyes wander over the man in front of him, his slumped shoulders, fidgeting hands, unsettled eyes, and I realise he's still grieving. Grieving for his sister, grieving for his brother-in-law, grieving for the little girl who's now essentially parentless, and grieving no doubt for his own disrupted life.

And as much as I'm sure he'll never admit it, he must feel somewhat cheated of the future he wanted, probably having imagined himself living in sunny California with a beautiful boyfriend and a job he adored. While instead he's here, in grey England, a single parent, with a job he seems less than passionate about. But maybe he still had the beautiful boyfriend? Maybe Liam followed him to London?

I try my hardest to stop the thought erupting from my mouth, but who am I kidding? There is no way I can hold it in. "Did Liam come to London with you?" the questions comes out quickly, hurried, jumbling together until it sounds like one huge word. And, after a second that feel like an eternity, he laughs mockingly, eyes lifting from the table but not meeting mine, instead staring at the wall behind me. A hand rises to knead his forehead, before he shakes his head. When his eyes finally settle on mine there is a smile on his lips but sadness in his eyes. "No. Liam didn't come to London with me. Apparently his love for me wasn't _quite_ as big as his love for LA," he rolls his eyes and shrugs as if he doesn't care, but I know him well enough to see pain behind his façade of indifference.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Oh, just the usual," he says dismissively; his eyes glaze over with the memory as he recalls it to me.

Tuesday October 25th 2016

**Blaine**

"Blaine, you're not seriously considering this are you?" my boyfriend asks incredulously. It's the evening after meeting with the solicitor, and we've returned to our hotel to 'discuss' the options, although we both knew it was inevitably going to turn into a fight, and within a few minutes of stepping into the room, it's begun.

"Yes, I am considering it, what other options do I have?" I ask, shocked at how badly he's taking this.

"Erm… well, only the obvious ones! _Your_parents! _His_parents! You're not the only person in the world Blaine, you don't have to try and fix _everyone's_ problems!" His anger and sarcasm hurts, and I try to figure out where this person has come from, because in all our time together, through all the arguments we've had, he's never spoken to me like this.

"I'm not trying to fix _anyone's_problems, and for fuck sake Liam; she's a _person,_not a _problem_ that needs fixing. And weren't you listening, they didn't want _either_of their parents to look after her, they wanted _me_!"

"Yeah, wanted you so badly they made sure to ask you!" he replies scathingly, striding over to the bed as I follow swiftly behind, anger building in my stomach as I stare at the new person unfolding in front of me.

"Well I don't think they exactly planned on dying! You're such a selfish bastard!" I shout at him as he swivels to face me.

"Selfish? So, not wanting you to throw your life away to fulfil someone's dying wish is selfish? Not wanting you to give up on all your dreams to raise a child who would be just as well off with a variety of other people is selfish? Does wanting you to have the life you've always dreamt of make me selfish? Because if it does then yeah, I'm the most selfish bastard in the world!" He retaliates, tears of anger threatening to fall.

I sneer at him, "None of that's true and you know it. You just don't want to have to move away from your friends and your job and your stupid fucking apartment that you love so much. You're just unwilling to do anything that benefits someone other than yourself!"

He looks shocked at my words and pulls himself up to his full height, glaring down at me, taking deep heaving breaths that cause his chest to balloon out. "What's you're plan then? Move to London, live in their house, raise her on your own? Because you will be alone you realise, no ones ever going to want you with someone else's brat to bring up!" He practically spits at me, a look of disgust distorting his features.

Suddenly I feel exhausted, I'm physically, emotionally and mentally drained, and I give up, I give up fighting. I made my decision as soon as the solicitor read my name out, all I'd had to do was make sure Liam was willing to make the move, I'd never thought it'd be so hard. Yet suddenly, staring at the man in front of me, I can see a future without him where I've never seen one before.

I can see a life in London, with my beautiful niece. I can see her first day at school, and her first school play, I can see years of Christmases and birthdays spread out in front of us, I can see first boyfriends and broken hearts, and I can't bear the thought of not being with her through all of that. So I make a choice, right here and now, in a split second I chose the child I don't know over the man I love.

"I choose her," I say simply, tiredness and defeat seeping into my voice because I've had enough of resisting, and I'm tired of feeling sad, and I'm fed up of trying to fill everyone's expectations. Mums, dads, Liam's, when really all I want to do is be myself, someone the people around me seem to try so desperately to keep hidden away.

_"You what!"_He sneers, mouth moving slowly in disbelief, emphasising each letter as it escapes his lips. He leans forward towards me slightly as he speaks, mouth gaping open an inch as the question hangs in the stifling air. Thick with anger and rage and disgust and betrayal. His eyes stare blisteringly into mine, but I stand my ground.

"I choose her," I repeat again simply, "over you," I add after a moments pause. His anger begins to falter as sadness flickers in his eyes, realisation sweeping over him.

"So… we're over, just like that? You're throwing all this away for her? The last three years mean that little to you?" he asks, and I can see he's genuinely hurt as he watches me. I feel guilt try to push its way into my mind but I push back equally hard, refusing to let it in, because he's _made_ me do this.

"Yes, we're over. And no, _I'm_not throwing this away, _you_are, because you're too close minded to even think about discussing this like an adult," I state simply looking away from him, then I finish the conversation, and our relationship, with the simplest yet harshest words I can think of, "I think you should leave."

"Leave… as in, the room? Or, your life?" he asks sadly, and I refuse to look at him because I'm scared of the look in his eyes, and above all I don't want to cry, because this really is the end. He's the guy I thought was perfect for me, the guy who saved me from a deep depression, and here I am telling him to leave, and I'm sure if I look at him I will take it all back in a heartbeat for a chance to stay with him.

"Both," I finally say as I stifle the sobs building within my chest, refusing to make eye contact. I tilt my neck right back to stare at the ceiling, trying desperately to blink back tears. I listen as he walks around the room, gathering his belongings I assume; next I hear the zip of a suitcase and the sound of him walking to the door. I keep my neck back as I hear the latch of the door open, and I imagine him standing in the doorway looking at me one last time. I refuse the urge to look back at him. Then I hear the click of the door as it shuts, and I finally let myself break down into uncontrollable sobs for what feels like the thousandth time since I first received my mother's phone call ten days ago. Except this time there are no reassuring arms to rock me to sleep.

Friday April 26th 2019

**Kurt**

Once again my mouth is gaping in shock at the story Blaine's telling me. Then I realise he's stopped talking and is looking at me, waiting for me to speak, but I don't know what to say. Do I apologise? Or do I offer a 'you're better off without him', or maybe the traditional 'it's his loss not yours'? In the end I do the only thing that feels right and justified. "What a complete twat!" I spit, shaking my head as I stare into Blaine's tired looking eyes. He shrugs in response and looks away, watching him I'm surprised to see a small smile grace his beautiful face and a tiny laugh escape his lips. "Why're you laughing?" I ask confused.

"It's just your reaction, I mean, it was so… _you!_" he says as he looks up at me and grins, a few more small chuckles filling the air around us. And I can't help but smile back, my eyes crinkling as I begin to laugh too, because seeing him so cheerful after how sad he's been throughout our conversation makes me soar with happiness.

We continue to laugh quietly in our small corner of the cafe; to everyone else we must seem like two school girls, giggling together in the corner, because every time our eyes lock we're overwhelmed with laughter again, sniggering increasingly louder. Gradually the laughter subsides and is replaced with sideways grins and smirks over our coffee cups with sparkling eyes. Eventually he speaks, his eyes locking onto mine unwaveringly as four deadly words escape his lips. "I've missed you Kurt," he says through a laugh, and it almost sounds like he doesn't mean to say it aloud, like a fleeting thought that somehow made its self heard.

I stop laughing abruptly, the smile falling from my face as I stare in disbelief, but before I have a chance to speak he does, but now his smile is sad and reminiscent, and it upsets me that this times it's my fault. I feel a pang of gult in my heart and a slow ache builds in my stomach as I wait for him to speak.

"I mean, what happened between us was… fucked up, to say the least," my breath catches as I wait, knowing that isn't all he's going to say, and my heart begins to pound at the thought of what he _might_say. "But you were still the best friend I ever had," he says with a small smile, "and my first love," he looks away as he says the last part, and I'm glad, because there is no way I could look into his gorgeous eyes when he says that without bursting into tears.

Instead I resign myself to take a deep shaking breath as I try to calm my furiously beating heart. I don't know what to say back, this moment being the perfect time to apologise profusely for what I did, the perfect time to beg for forgiveness and to tell him that I never stopped loving him. But I'm too scared to say any of those things; too scared to even look into his eyes as I answer with a weak, whispered, "I've missed you too."

I see out the corner of my eye as his head rises from the table to look at me, and with all the self-control I have I look up at him. We sit like this for a moment, staring into each others eyes, hundreds of thoughts racing through our minds, thousands of unsaid words passing between us, millions of memories filling the air around us, making it thick and hard to breathe.

He's the first to look away, eyes roaming over the wall behind me as he sighs and raises his hands to rub at his blood shot eyes. "God, I'm exhausted," he finally says, resting his face in his hands as he closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say lamely, not sure what I'm apologising for. Was it for making him tired? Or for what happened all those years ago?

He opens his eyes and looks at me from where his head still rests in his hands, "for what?" he asks, and I wonder whether he's thinking along the same lines as me. But I don't know what to say as he continues to stare at me unblinking. I can see the redness of his eyes and small bags forming underneath them, his skin looking paler than normal and I realise he must really be exhausted.

"For everything," I eventually say, and I feel as tears pool behind my eyes lids as I stare into his face before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I did," his head tilts up from his hands and begins to shake, eyes scrunching shut and looking away as if he doesn't want to listen. But I continue, my voice faltering slightly as I rush to get everything out, "and I'm sorry for ruining what we had," his eyes lock on mine and he opens his mouth to speak. I can see tears welling in his eyes as well so I continue quickly before he has a chance to speak, because I'm scared that if I stop now, and let him speak, I'll never build up enough courage to ever carry on. "I'm sorry for never bothering to find you for all this time, and for what happened to Sophie," I gulp heavily, "I'm sorry you had to go through all this shit alone, and I'm sorry that bastard didn't love you enough to follow you to London," a single tear falls from my eye, sliding down my cheek, "I'm just… sorry, for everything,"

I take a deep, heaving breath as I raise my hand to wipe away the tear that's now reached my jaw, but he catches me by the wrist before I have a chance. His eyes focus intently on mine, letting my wrist go, my arm hovering awkwardly above the table as I look into his eyes, my lips still slightly parted.

In my peripheral vision I see his hand that released my wrist raising slowly, his thumb outstretched towards my jaw. I feel the slightest pressure as his thumb presses lightly against my skin, as gentle as a feather as he wipes the single tear from my skin. At the feel of his skin ghosting over mine my eyes flicker closed, my lips still parted as my breathing stills, scared to move even the smallest fraction in case I scare him away. His thumb traces the length of my jaw, pulling away just before he reached my ear lobe, and he speaks so quietly I'm not sure whether I'm imagining it or not, "you've nothing to apologise for Kurt, I forgave you as soon as it happened." My eyes flicker open at his words, and I can hear the genuineness in his voice, his arm retracting and folding over the other that lies on the table, "And as for the other stuff," he shrugs dismissively, "that's just life I suppose."


	6. Chapter VI

Thursday June 9th 2011

**Blaine**

At first I counted months; two.

As time passed it changed to weeks; five.

Then to days; 11.

Finally I'm on hours; 48.

This continuous counting started when Kurt first told me he wanted to transfer back to McKinley, and since then I've been unable to stop myself from mentally crossing off each day as it flies past me. Why when you're dreading something does time speed up until it feels like days and weeks are fusing together and passing in the blink of an eye? He's set to drive home Saturday morning, around 9am like usual, and I've never dreaded a day more.

I can't explain, even to myself, why his transfer scares me so much. I know a huge part of me still worries about the people at McKinley, how they will still probably verbally abuse him, alienate him because of his sexuality, make him an outcast. At Dalton he's completely accepted, a valued member of the Warblers and loved by his peers as well as most teachers. But it's more than that. I'm scared that he'll get fed up of the travelling and decide I'm not worth it, I'm scared that he'll just get bored with me when I can't be around all the time to constantly woo him. I'm scared that there'll be someone new at McKinley whose better looking than me, funnier, smarter, more charming.

To be honest I'm scared of him being too far away for me to reach over and touch every time he feels unreal, every time he felt too good to be true, every time I'm struck with the shock of actually _being with him._

So here I am, hour 48.

It's just gone nine o'clock Thursday morning, and I'm sat in an English lesson behind Kurt. While he admires the book in front of him, I admire him; the way his legs are crossed neatly under his table, the curve of his spine as he slouches slightly over his book, the way he idly runs the index finger of his right hand up and down the protruding bone at the base of his neck, tickling the fine downy hairs resting on his white skin. I haven't even opened my book yet and we're 20 minutes into the lesson, but it doesn't really matter. We're only here because we have to be. Our exam was last week; we're essentially just killing time until tomorrow when school officially end. I can think of a few better ways of killing time if I'm honest.

I pull a scrap of paper from my bag and scribble him a hurried note. I don't have anything in particular I need to ask, more of an overwhelming want to communicate with him somehow, because every minute that passes where I'm not talking to him, listening to him, touching him is a minute wasted. _What're you reading?_ I write, throwing it over his shoulder, right into the centre of his book. He removes his hand from his neck to uncurl it, and I half regret it, instantly missing watching the lazy patterns he was tracing on his own skin.

_Jane Eyre, you?_I grimace. I hate that book, and yet he loves it. I can't for the life of me understand why, and whenever I ask he's never able to give a coherent answer, mumbling something dumbly before changing the subject.

_I'm not reading. I'm watching you read. _I throw it over to him.

I see his shoulders shake a little as he laughs and shakes his head. _You're such a creep sometimes,_he writes back. I imagine the grin which is no doubt plastered across his face and smile in return. A few minutes pass as I try to think of a response. I want something witty or teasing, something that'll make him laugh or gasp in shock, but nothing seems to fit. So I settle for the truth.

_I love you_.

I expect his reply to be instantaneous, but it takes a while as I watch him flick through the pages of his book, apparently searching for something specific. I'm shocked to hear the quiet sound of paper being torn followed by the scratch of pen on thin paper, before he throws a crumpled up piece of yellowing paper over his shoulder. I catch it in both hands and unfurl it.

It's been ripped perfectly around the quote, _'I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.'_ And I grin as the quote perfectly describes how we feel about each other, and then I notice in his familiar spiky hand writing the words, _I love you too,_ just squeezed into the corner. If possible my grin grows even bigger, and I sigh contently.

He must have heard me because a second later he's bending his arm backwards at an odd angle, managing to place it palm upwards on my desk. Without thinking about the fact we're in a class full of people, our teacher sat only a few feet away, I lean my head down and stretch my neck to kiss the tips of each of his finger, causing a stifled giggle to escape his lips at the tickle of my breath against his palm. I smirk and pull away as he swings his arm back to rest on his desk, continuing to read. I, on the other hand, fold the torn paper into a small square and tuck it into my wallet, just one more thing to remind me of him.

The next couple of hours fly by, as usual when you want nothing more than for time to slow down, and before long I'm sliding silently into the seat beside Kurt who's eating lunch among our friends. All of them talking loudly, laughing and shouting at each other "Where's your food?" he asks, grinning as he bites into his chicken wrap.

"Not hungry," I say with a shrug, smiling happily. He frowns a little and offers his half eaten lunch to me. I grimace and shake my head, looking away from the food. I don't feel like eating, nothing really appeals to me. Instead I rest my left arm on the table, pointing my elbow out while my hand faces me, angling my body to rest my head on my folded arm, using it as a makeshift pillow as I watch Kurt quietly eat his lunch. He blushes slightly under my intense gaze, which only makes me grin wider and watch him even more closely.

"What?" he eventually asks, finishing his lunch, eyebrows rising with the question, which almost sounds like an accusation.

"Nothing," I say teasingly, shrugging as I continue to watch him happily.

"It's never 'nothing' with you Blaine," he pokes me light-heartedly in my unprotected side, and I grin propping myself up on my arm, my left cheek resting in the palm of my hand as I continue my mischievous grinning. "Stop it!" He half yells as he nudges me harder than before, hard enough for it to bruise later.

"Stop what!" I question innocently.

"Staring at me… it's weird," he says, and I can see the faint blush still evident on his cheeks and the vague hint of a smile as he revels in my attention.

"But you're just so pretty!" I reply playfully, my face lighting up with a smile at the incredulous expression that appears on his before he pushes me away, knocking me into the person sat on my left. I laugh as I apologise and admire the blush which has completely swept over his face.

He's spared the need to respond by David, who's just planted himself across the table from us and immediately takes Kurt's attention. "So who from McKinley's coming tomorrow Kurt? I need to make sure they're on the list," He asks, oblivious to what he's just interrupted.

"Oh yeah, right," Kurt said distractedly as he turns away from me to face David, "I completely forgot I had to tell you. But, is a guest list really necessary? I mean, it is just an end of year party."

At this David begins to laugh and shakes his head, "It is not _just_an end of year party. It's a _Dalton_end of year party!" At this Kurt rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by David who continues. "You have no idea Kurt; the amount of people who try to sneak their way into this party is ridiculous. Seriously, it's _huge_!" He says smiling, "So, who've you invited from across enemy lines?" he smirks when he asks, knowing this will rile Kurt.

Kurt arches an eyebrow at his wording, but makes no comment. "I invited them all, but they can't all make it, for whatever reason. So it's just Finn, Rachel, Mercedes, Puck, Brit and Santana. Tina and Mike said they'd come for a bit if they have time, but they're going away with Tina's family over summer and leaving tomorrow night I think." David nods as Kurt speaks, scribbling their names onto a worn piece of paper already littered in names. I notice he's writing them under the heading, 'The Enemy', and I smile as I watch him glance up at Kurt to see if he'd noticed, obviously having done it to irritate Kurt. But he's unaware, happily replying to a text.

"Worth a try," he says smiling at me and shrugging when he notices I'd seen what he was doing, I laugh and nod.

"Can I have a look?" I ask politely, motioning with my hand towards the crumpled guest list. He hands it to me before turning to talk to Jeff, falling into his conversation. I scan the names which are oddly organised under various headings. A huge portion is under the heading 'The Ladies' and is dedicated to the all girls boarding school not far from Dalton. I recognise a few familiar names on the list as girlfriends of classmates. There is a much smaller category labelled 'Family', but I know this doesn't mean parents, but siblings and cousins who have been invited. There is of course the 'Enemy' heading with Kurt's friends names listed underneath, and then dotted around the page, not falling into any category and in all different handwritings are the random names of peoples friends from out of school who they'd chose to invite.

There's one final heading; 'Ex Students' and my heart stops as I hurriedly read the names underneath, searching for one name in particular. And suddenly there it is, in scarily familiar handwriting, his name elegantly written on the paper. Confusion sweeps over me as I realise he must have written his own name, while the majority of the others are written in David's messy scribble. I feel my heart rate increase two fold at this realisation and I can't tear my eyes from those two words, the name I'd hoped never to have to read again, let alone see the person whom it belonged to.

Now looking at the paper his name is all I can see, and I'm surprised I hadn't seen it earlier; because now I know it's there it feels like the only visible name on the page. For a second I completely forget where I am as I furiously kick David under the table, desperate to get his attention but not trusting myself to open my mouth without screaming.

His head swings to face me, pain etched onto his features as he opens his mouth to scold me, but he stops when he sees the look on my face. Pure anger, mingled with fear and disgust. And his own expression changes instantly, eyebrows rising for a second in confusion and then his eyes flicker down to the paper grasped in my hands and he realises what I must have seen, what he's done. His mouth drops open as his hand rises to cover it in shock. His eyes became apologetic and pleading as he stares dumbstruck at me. I risk a glance at Kurt to make sure he hasn't noticed our silent exchange, but he's distracted, happily chatting to Thad who's sat on his other side.

I turn back to David, who had followed my gaze to Kurt and then slowly back to me, and if possible his expression became even more apologetic. His hand drops from his face and I can almost hear him swallow the lump which has no doubt formed in his throat.

"What the _fuck_!" I spit at him, trying hard to keep my voice low but still get across how absolutely livid I am.

He's still staring at me, stunned into silence as he shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. I wait, raising my eyebrows at him and shining my eyes angrily as I wait for him to speak. Eventually he does, "I- I'm so sorry… I didn't even think, I mean, I just-"

"When did you see him?" I furiously question, hazarding another glance at Kurt to make sure he's still distracted.

He cocks his head to the side in confusion, "How'd you know I'd se-"

"I still recognise his stupid fucking handwriting that's how, and don't give me that look!" I growl furiously as he raises his eyebrows in shock at my little revelation. "How did this even _happen_?" I ask indignantly, motioning towards the paper in front of us.

"I bumped into him last weekend when I was visiting my sister in Columbus," he says dejectedly, and I motion with my hands for him to continue. "I was just walking down the street and I heard someone shout my name. It was him. I couldn't exactly _not_talk to him," I scoff at this. He could quite easily have not spoken to him and then we wouldn't be in this stupid mess. "He was home early from college, and asked about the party-"

"He _asked_!" I challenge, my anger increasing at the thought of him inviting himself somewhere he knows he's less than welcome.

"Yeah… he said he'd love to come, and I couldn't think of how to say no," I laugh cruelly, and David's face changes, his expression much more incredulous when he next speaks. "What, so you expected me to go, 'oh no sorry mate, you can't come to your old schools party because Blaine's still so fucked up about what happened that he cant bear to hear your name, let alone be in the same ro-'"

I cut him off angrily, "Fine! I get it, but couldn't you have at least told him there wasn't a party this year or… or anything else! Anything to stop him coming? Can you not ring him now and tell him it's cancelled?" I half beg, my face shifting from angry to beseeching. I plead with my eyes despite knowing deep down that there's no way you could cancel on him now without him finding out why, which would to some degree be worse than him actually coming.

David shakes his head at me, "I'm so sorry Blaine. I should have told you, I know I should have. I just figured maybe there was a chance he wouldn't come, or you wouldn't see him or, I dunno… I just sort of hoped somehow it'd fix itself," he says sadly. I rub my eyes, feeling far more exhausted than I had a matter of minutes ago.

"It's fine," I assure him taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry for kicking you, shock got the better of me," I smile and he smiles back, silently accepting my apology. I hand him back the paper which he folds carefully, as if it could burn him, and slips it into his bag.

I look away from him and down at my hands resting on the table. I can still feel my heart pounding slightly faster than usual, my breath still a little hurried as I try to control the fear twisting in my stomach. My dread for tomorrow practically triples as I add his presence to the fact it'll be Kurt's last day. And then I'm hit by a new wave of worry. Should I tell Kurt about him? I mean, he knows about him, technically, but I've never bothered to go into detail about what happened, and he'd never asked, never having reason to think it was anything out of the ordinary.

I sit there, silently contemplating my options before deciding I'll tell Kurt he's coming, I'll tell him tonight, but I won't tell him anything more unless he asks. I won't tell him about how he'd led me on and abused me, how he'd broken me into a million pieces. No, I'll keep those facts to myself for a little longer, until the time's right.

The rest of the day flies by, and before I have time to think about it, I'm on hour 41, making it four o'clock, just past in fact. I've been distracted all day since lunch, inwardly arguing with myself about when best to tell Kurt, and how to tell him. I figured the sooner the better, so I make my way nervously to Kurt's room straight after our lessons finish. I walk straight in, never having knocked in the past, and find him sat on his bed, his back to me, legs crossed beneath him, phone held to his ear. He doesn't turn as I open the door and I wonder whether he hasn't heard me or has just chose to ignore me.

Silently I creep up behind him, trying my hardest not to make a sound, but he seems completely unaware, happily chatting away on the phone. He laugh tiredly as he speaks, "No, I haven't seen it," he sounds exasperated but cheerful as he leans his elbow on his knee and rests his head in his palm. I reach the edge of the bed and manage to curl my fingers swiftly and gently around his eyes. He jumps at the unexpected contact and gasps, almost dropping the phone from his ear as he cranes his neck back to look at his intruder.

His eyes meet mine and a smile stretches across his features upon realising it's me. I grin and kiss him gently on the cheek, pulling my hands back to rest them on his shoulders, gently massaging as he turns back to face forward. "Blaine. He startled me," he clarifies to whoever's on the phone before continuing, "And why would I have brought it here with me?" he questions. I listen intently, recognising Finn's voice. Kurt sighs heavily at whatever his stepbrother is saying and leans back into my massage, his back flush against my chest where I'm still stood at the edge of the bed. "Have you checked under your bed?" he asks, and I hear a shuffling on the other end of the line and then a slightly muffled 'Found it!' I laugh, and Kurt shakes against my chest as it moves, he looks up and rolls his eyes at his brother's occasional stupidity. "You're welcome, I'll see you tomorrow," he makes a motion to hang up before Finn speaks again, "For the party you idiot!" and then he laughs in earnest at Finn's forgetfulness, before finally saying goodbye and hanging up.

He slings his phone to the side where it lands softly on his bed as he swivels to face me. He shuffles to the edge and unfolds his legs, placing his feet firmly on the ground either side of my own. He wraps his arms firmly around my waist and pulls me closer, my legs pushing between his thighs as I step forward, knotting my hands into his hair as he looks up at me with big, sky blue eyes, planting a light kiss on my stomach through my shirt. He keeps his face there for a moment, buried into the fabric of my clothes as he breathes deeply, inhaling my smell.

Slowly his hands move, tracing from my waist down to the base of my spine, tugging gently at my shirt, untucking it from my trousers. I gasp at the contact of his cold hands on my warm skin as they lace their way up my shirt and then around to the front, completely pulling it free of my slacks. He then lifts it up to reveal my stomach and hip bones. I hold my breath as I watch him lean in and gently ghost his lips over my skin, feathering delicate kisses from my right hip, right across the skin stretched between, just above my waistband before settling on my left hip, where he stops suddenly and looks up, smirking at the expression on my face.

He lets my shirt drop down, moving one arm behind his back to support himself as he looks up at me more comfortably. I watch in anticipation as his eyes roam over me, trailing from my curly hair, over my shocked face, and right down my body to my knees, still pressed tightly between his thighs. I swallow heavily, my heart missing a beat when his eyes lock on mine and his free hand begins to rise slowly. I instinctively lean forward, assuming he's reaching for my face. But instead he curls his fingers around my tie and tugs gently, bending me over him. Looking into his eyes I see desire, and my heart begins to pound. I feel him raise his legs to wrap them around my knees, causing them to buckle, at the same time as he pulls me down roughly. Within seconds I'm lying flush on top of him, the hand that'd grasped my tie has worked its way up to lace around my neck, burying itself into the sensitive hairs at the back of neck, while the arm that'd been supporting him is wrapped firmly around my back, pressing our bodies together.

My arms instinctively rise to stop myself from falling and are now planted either side of his head as I stare down at him. I pull my legs up, kneeling as I tug him further up the bed so his legs no longer dangle off the edge. He's staring at me so intently that it takes my breath away and I'm hit again with the over whelming knowledge that he's leaving me. I unintentionally frown, causing him to raise his head from the pillow it now rests on to kiss me, gently at first.

I kiss back just as carefully, before it changes. Becoming hungry and needy at the same time, and I can feel my heart hammering as I push into him, forcing him further into the bed. There are so many thoughts rushing through my head as I tried to concentrate on one in particular. The reason why I came to find him. As the memory of seeing_his_ name on the guest list intrudes my mind I'm able to pull back slightly with a deep breath, but he misreads my movement and instead begins to kiss hungrily down my jaw and neck, wrapping his legs once again around me as he pulls me closer to him.

"Stop," I manage to mumble as he tugs my face down to his again, but he ignores me, "Stop!" I say more forcefully, tensing my arm muscles as I pull away from him almost completely. He now lies at arms length beneath me, legs still clinging to me and his arms laced desperately around my neck and back. He looks at me dejectedly, probably wondering what he's done wrong. And it breaks my heart for a second to think I've made him feel rejected. "Can we just… can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, licking my dry lips as I hover over him. I see a scared expression flit across his face as I realise it sounds like I want to break up with him, and I hasten to correct it. "I mean, there's something I need to tell you," his facial expression changes again, to confusion, and I realise again too late that this time it sounds like I've cheated on him. "Eurgh," I huff in frustration as I lift myself from on top of him, his legs fell away, releasing me as he props himself up on his elbows to look at me.

"What is it?" he finally asks and I see fear and trepidation in his eyes as he waits for me to speak.

"Nothing important, I just… I literally just need to talk to you for a second, and then we can pick up where we left off," I smirk, hoping that'll reassure him and cover up the dread written across my own face.

"Okay," he says, elongating the syllables as he sits up properly and folds his legs underneath himself, furrowing his brow in confusion at my sudden change of mood.

"I'll just get straight to the point shall I?" I ask, half to myself. He nods silently, uncertainty written across his features. "Okay, so you remember that guy I told you about months and months ago, back when we were first together?"

"Your ex, Matthew?" I grimace at the name but nod; "Yeah…" he says afterwards, looking at me intensely as he no doubt tries to figure out where this is going.

"Well, I figured you should probably know, he's going to be at the party tomorrow night, I thought, you'd y'know, rather know than, not know…" I finish lamely, internally kicking myself for making such a big deal about this when it shouldn't be. Well it is, but Kurt doesn't know the reasons why and I don't intend on telling him why just yet.

A few awkward seconds pass, me staring at his bed while he stares perplexed at me, "That's it?" I looked up at him uncertainly. At the look on my face he begins to laugh and crawls over to me. "You need to chill Blaine; you stopped our make out session to tell me your ex-boyfriend is going to be at the same party as us tomorrow night?" I nod, unsure of where he's going with this. "Talk about a mood killer," he continues to laugh as he sidles up to me. "I don't care who else is there, as long as you are," he says sincerely, resting his head on my shoulder and looking up at me, a hint of laughter still remaining in his eyes.

I smile back, unable to resist when I see him happy. "So it doesn't bother you?" I build up the courage to ask as he pulls at me, turning me to face him, pulling me against him as he lies back.

"Not at all," he murmur into a kiss as he pulls me down to lie on top of him again, "Just another excuse to stay _extra_ close to you all night," he whispers in my ear and I feel him smirk against my neck as he continues to kiss me, wrapping his legs around me like before. I relax at his words, most of the dread leaving me completely now I know it doesn't bother him. _If it doesn't bother him then it shouldn't bother me_, I think as I allow relief to wash over me.

It's fine. We're fine. And with that thought racing through my mind I allow my body to fall completely on top of Kurt, kissing him back just as hungrily as he kisses me. Allowing him to devour me and rock our bodies together, smiling into the familiarity of his hands unbuttoning my shirt and slipping it from my shoulders, the feel of his skin pressed against mine. Suddenly he rolls me over so I'm lying on my back, him straddling me and assaulting my skin with kisses and touches and licks and bites, sending shivers through my body as I revel in his attention and love and how utterly relaxed we are together and how completely we trust each other. And for the first time since I found out about him wanting to leave Dalton, I relax, allowing him to fill me to the brim with love and kisses and whispered words.

We're fine. We're better than fine; we're perfect.


	7. Chapter VII

Thursday May 9th 2019

**Kurt**

I'm slumped, quite literally, over my desk at work, laptop pushed unceremoniously to the side to make room for my arms, which I've crossed on my desk and am resting my head on. I breathe steady but heavily, allowing my lungs to fill completely each time before exhaling as I try to calm the pounding in my head. My eyes are closed tightly, blocking out any form of light which promises to only increase my suffering. I've been sat like this for a while now, just breathing deeply and allowing my stress to subside as exhaustion takes over.

It's been another particularly difficult day, George following me endlessly, trying desperately to impress me and make up for his almighty fuck up a couple of weeks ago. On top of that we've had some new people start, and I've had them continually badgering me for help with one thing, or advice on another thing. And I know they mean well, just wanting to do well on their first day, but so they really have to come and ask me if they can go toilet like one of them had? And once the others saw the first person do it, they all copied, thinking it was a rule.

So that's how I got here, hunched over my desk, contemplating whether I might be able to get away with a quick nap atop my desk without anyone realising. While weighing up the pros and cons of said nap my phone begins ringing. I groan and knock it slightly further from my ear, ignoring it, whoever it is can leave a message and I'll get back to them later.

It seems to ring forever before finally clicking over to voicemail. I smile into my arms at the resounding silence that sweeps the room as I settle back into the comfort silence. And then it rings again, just as harsh as before. This time I frown angrily and stretch my arm out, not lifting my head from my desk. I slid my finger over the screen to answer it, not even bothering to look at the name as I bring it to my ear. "What?" I huff down the line.

"Kurt?" an unmistakable voice questions, and I jolt up so quickly my neck cricks. I'm unable to stifle the gasp of pain which escapes my lips as I raise my hand to rub my neck. "What was that?" he asks, and I realise all he's heard is a stifled moan in response to him saying my name.

"Nothing, nothing," I respond quickly. "You okay?" I ask awkwardly, desperate to move the unexpected conversation away from my strange phone etiquette. It's been 13 days since we'd met in Hyde Park and gone for coffee, and I haven't heard a word from him since. I tried ringing him once, but it just rang and rang until it went over to voicemail, and I'd quickly hung up before the dreaded 'beep' sounded. I thought maybe he'd ring back, after getting a missed call from me, but he hadn't, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed and a little surprised. We'd got on so well and after the initial awkwardness we were fine, great even, laughing together and sharing cake.

Maybe that was it. Maybe how easily we fell back into each others company scared him. Maybe he feels embarrassed after opening up to me after so many years. Or maybe he's just scared of where this is going, because as much as I want this to go somewhere, _anywhere_, even just to friendship, it's still undeniably frightening. To have to suddenly reacquaint yourself with someone who already knows your deepest secrets, proudest moments, biggest hopes… someone who knows how to stop you crying, how to make you laugh until tears stream from your eyes, how to make you scream their name into the night. It's beyond terrifying. Because where do you begin when you're already miles past the starting line?

His voice interrupts my wild trail of thoughts, "Urm… yeah I'm fine, am I disturbing you or something? I can always ring back some other time…" he says, trailing off a little, and I realise how odd I must've sounded, answering the phone angrily and then gasping when he spoke.

"No, no, it's fine. Just had a…" I pause, thinking of an appropriate way of describing my day, "exhausting day," I settle on truthfully.

I hear him chuckle a little before replying with a slightly muffled, "Tell me about it," and I hear the smile in his voice, masking the now obvious sleepiness. My mind wanders as he says that, what's happened to make his day so exhausting? I can't imagine the life of an English teacher being particularly strenuous, and then I remember that technically he's a single parent, and suddenly my heart goes out to him. At least when I get home I can do whatever I want and relax, when he gets home he has a three year old to take care of, to feed and bathe and entertain and get into bed at a reasonable hour.

As my thoughts race through all the things he must have to do after work, silence stretches between us. Then it dawns on me that neither of us are talking, and that he's probably waiting for me to speak. I cough to clear my throat and eventually speak, unsure of what to say, "So… how are you?" I wait patiently for a response, but there isn't one. I'm confused, why isn't he talking… has he rang me by accident? Has he rang me and not expected me to answer? "Blaine?" I question into the phone, confusion evident in my voice. Suddenly I hear an eruption of laughter, it sounds childish and feminine; Ava I realise suddenly, and I grin ear to ear and I press the phone closer, straining to hear what's happening on the other end, desperate to get the smallest glimpse into Blaine's home life.

I hear Blaine's voice, slightly muffled and far away and I realise he must've put his phone down while he deals with whatever his niece is up to. I continued to grin as I wait, imagining him chasing after the little girl who looks so much like him, her long hair trailing in her wake. "NO!" he suddenly shouts, loud enough to make me jump and swiftly pull the phone from my ear. I stare at it shocked, as if it was the phone itself which's made the alarming noise, not the man on the other end. After a moment I tentatively put it back to my ear, an inch or so further away than before, ready to pull it back quickly if there's anymore shouting.

My curiosity peaks as I wondered what's happening. "I told you no, Ava. AVA! Stop right now!" I'm surprised by the anger in his voice, and I frown slightly, wondering what's caused him to be so mad. He's always been so calm in the past. "Okay baby I'm sorry, but can you please just sit down, for two minutes, while I talk on the phone? And then we'll do whatever you want, how about that?" His voice is pleading, and I imagine him leant down in front of her as he speaks. Silence follows, and I realise her voice will be far too low and delicate for me to hear through the phone. "Good girl," he finally says a lot more cheerfully.

I smile inwardly at being able to listen to Blaine being a dad, a role I'll never admit to having imagined him in, and can now hear suits him perfectly. He's just so loving and kind, always so patient and willing to listen and teach. I hear the sound of the phone being picked up again and cough to clear my throat ready to talk. "Sorry about that," he says through a sigh.

"No problem, it was quite entertaining actually," I say sincerely and I hear him laugh quietly, "what's she doing?" I ask, unable to stop my inquisitiveness.

"Well, it's become a bit of an unintentional tradition on a Thursday to bake something, a cake or some cookies, whatever she wants really. Anyway she got a bit fidgety and impatient when I said I had to ring someone, and she started messing with the oven when she didn't think I could see her, tugging on the door to open it and stuff." I can almost imagine him as he speaks, leaning against a kitchen counter whilst shaking his head, probably guarding the oven as he watches Ava from a distance. "I've plonked her in front of the TV now, she seems pretty content," he laughs lightly and I smile. It's nice to hear him speak so easily and happily about his now-daughter.

"Anyway, back to why I originally rang," he says, his tone becoming serious and I tense, waiting in anticipation. "I have a bit of a problem…" I still in my chair, wondering where this is going, "I was wondering whether you could help me, I've been worrying about it for ages now and you're the only person I know who has any experience, if you can even call it that, in this… area," He sounds a little scared as he justifies his reason for choosing to ask me for help.

"Okay… what is it?" I ask bluntly, confusion increasing at his odd wording and the way he's skating around the edge of whatever he wants help with. What do I have 'experience' with?

"Well… it's about Sunday," he confirms slightly shakily, hastening to add, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, I just thought if anyone knows how this feels it'd be you, normally I wouldn't ask but… I genuinely have no clue what to do," he finishes lamely. I frown as my brain works furiously to try and figure out the significance of Sunday.

"What about it?" I eventually ask after a few seconds, realising that he's waiting for me to speak.

"Well… it's Mothers Day," He finally verifies, and I don't know whether to frown further or smile. Why is he asking me for advice on this? I haven't properly celebrated a Mother's day in 17 years, and even the ones I did celebrate I can hardly remember.

There must be a reason for him asking me about this, I conclude, considering he knows more than most how sad I can get at the mention of my mother. "What about it?" I finally ask slowly, waiting expectantly for an answer as my brain continues to buzz with possible ideas.

"Well… what I mean to ask is… what do I do about it?" He sounds nervous, and slightly scared, which causes me to frown further.

However I don't want him to hear the confusion and slight sadness in my voice, so I cover it with light laughter as I speak confidently, "Blaine, I'm sure you know your mum well enough by now to get her a nice enough present," I continue to laugh slightly mockingly after I've finished speaking. This is the only thing I can imagine he might be referring to, because what else could it be?

Now it's his turn to be confused as he hurriedly responds, "What? No… No," he laughs, "I'm not asking for present advice," he begins to laugh in earnest now, "although you would be the first person I'd ask if I did need a gift idea." I can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks and it causes me to smile back, despite the bewilderment still burning in my mind. "I meant with Ava… what do I do on Mothers day with Ava?" He finally asks, and realisation hits me like a bomb.

This is why I'm the only person he could ask for advice, and suddenly my heart lurches. I hadn't even thought about Ava. Mother's day became unimportant to me a long time ago. Dad had tried to celebrate it with me the first few years after my mothers death, but eventually we stopped, instead focusing on just my mothers birthday, which was far more important than what I deem a commercial holiday.

"Oh," I speak, elongating the one syllable to get across my understanding, "I understand now!" I say through a laugh, and he laughs back, although it's mingled with a tinge of sadness and worry which I instantly pick up on. "Well, what did you do last year?" I question calmly as I glance at the clock over my door. I was meant to finish well over an hour ago; obviously I was too distracted before, and now with this phone call, to pay much attention to time. Standing up I shrug my jacket over one shoulder, swiftly switching my phone to the other ear to put my other arm through the sleeve as Blaine responds. I leave my office without saying goodbye to anyone and begin walking home, happy to have Blaine to accompany me on the short walk.

"Well, last year she didn't really know about it, and I mean, I didn't want to bring it up, it was only a year after they died after all, and I don't think she'd have understood anyway," he speaks gently, but I hear the sadness in his voice. "But now she knows about it because at nursery they've been told to make cards for their mums, and she came home asking me what she was meant to do, seeing as she doesn't have one…" I feel rather than heard him cringe at the harshness of his last words, before he continues slightly quieter than before, and I realise he must be trying to make sure Ava can't hear what he's talking about. "And I didn't know what to say because, well, what do you say to a motherless child when Mother's days approaching?" I hear him sigh heavily, which saddens me, "and then I thought of you, and well, I wondered, what did Burt used to do with you on Mothers day…?" he sounds awkward as he asks, hurrying to add, "feel free to tell me to fuck off if I've completely overstepped the line, but I just thought, maybe you could, lead me in the right direction? I've really no idea how to handle this," I can hear how tense his voice has got and I realise he understands how difficult this must be for me to talk about, which makes my heart swell slightly at the fact he cares.

"You haven't overstepped any line Blaine, it's fine," I assure him, "and I'm more than happy to help," I hear him breath a sigh of relief before I carry on speaking, "First things first, tell her that if everyone else at school is making a Mothers Day card, and she wants to, then she can. Make sure you tell her that her mum will know she's made it for her even if she can't show her it herself," I say as I enter Hyde Park with a smile.

Every time I cross the border from city to park I can't help but grin at the memory of our meeting, "secondly, you need to fill the day with things about Sophie, because she's not motherless, she still has a mum who loves her, she's just no longer here to tell her herself, so you have to do it for her, that's what my dad used to do anyway." I say with a sad smile at the many memories of my dad constantly reassuring me that, wherever my mum is she still loves me. I wait to see if he's going to respond, but when he doesn't I continue, remembering more and more things my dad had done for me on her birthday. "Tell her stories about Sophie, show her pictures and things which remind you of her, make sure the day's about remembering her and how wonderful she was, not about how sad you are that she's no longer around," I finally finish, hoping I'd given him a few idea's on what to do.

Blaine doesn't speak for a moment, and I think maybe he's disappeared from the other end again, but then he mumbles so quietly that I'm not sure whether I've really heard him, "Can you come round?"

"What? Now?" I asked frowning, looking down at what I'm wearing.

"No, on Sunday, I just… your ideas are brilliant, and, I really want to do them but… I have absolutely no idea how to deal with this, and as selfish as this sounds I don't think I can do it alone…" I hear desperation seeping into his words as the question hangs unanswered in the air.

What am I supposed to do? It's not like I have plans for Sunday, well, nothing exciting, my Sundays normally involved a day lounging around the house or designing new clothes, so it isn't like I'll miss out on anything. But do I really want to spend the day with a grieving, broken family… a situation which will no doubt open old wounds and only depress me? But then my mind is suddenly filled with the sight of Blaine, sat in front of me near tears in the café over a week ago as he spoke about his sister, and my heart breaks silently. "Of course I'll come round," I say, a little overly enthusiastically as I try to make up for my longer than usual pause, which he will no doubt have picked up on.

"You will?" he asks, and I can once again hear desperation, but more than that I can hear hope. My heart soars at the thought of him wanting to see me, and the fact that I'll soon get to see him.

"Of course I will!" I reassure straight away. "I'll do anything to make this easier for you," I add kindly, pushing away the fact that it will no doubt be depressing whether I'm there or not. I reach into my bag to get my keys as I near home.

"Thanks so much Kurt, for everything," he says, sounding remarkably happier than he had only seconds ago, which makes me smile as I unlock the front door and step inside, shutting the door firmly and slipping my shoes off.

"No problem," I reply happily, wandering through my hall and into my living room/kitchen. I dropped my bag onto one of the kitchen counters before walking over to my black leather couch, falling back and allowing myself to sink comfortably into the familiar fabric, which curves perfectly around me.

"I'm going to have to go now Kurt, our cake's almost ready and I can see her getting impatient again," he says laughing lightly as he no doubt watches Ava from across the room, "see you Sunday yeah?" he asks, partly to reassure himself that I've really said I'll go.

"Yeah, I'll see you Sunday," I say smiling as I realise I'll actually get to _meet_ Ava, and spend the whole day in Blaine's company. Of course it isn't the perfect situation to bring us together, but it has nonetheless, and I'm still grateful. He says bye hurriedly, and I sense him going to clear down before I say his name, "Blaine!"

"Yeah?" he asks somewhat hesitantly, and I wonder what he thinks I'm going to say before I reply.

"I need to know your address if I'm coming over," I tell him. He quickly relays his address to me which I scribble on my hand, unable to find paper in time. We finally say goodbye and hang up. I place my phone on the arm of the sofa beside me, and relax back further into the seat, leaning my head right back to rest it on the back of the settee, closing my eyes I revel in the silence and peace that fills my home.

So, Blaine has rang me. _He _rang _me._Admittedly I never imagined us being brought together over the shared grief of Mothers Day, but I can't complain. And the fact that he rang me when he needed help made my heart soar, and even more so than that, he'd actually invited me round because he can't handle it alone. Which suggests he might be able to handle it with me around, which in turn suggests he needs me, or that I make elements of his life easier. Okay, so perhaps I'm reading into this too much, but I have a right to don't I? Because, all reasons aside, he still wants to see me again, and is happy for me to meet Ava, something I think he maybe doesn't do with just anyone.

With the thought of seeing him racing through my mind I make my way over to the kitchen, beginning dinner as I wonder whether there is anything special I could do to make Sunday a little easier on Blaine.


	8. Chapter VIII

Sunday May 12th 2019

**Kurt**

I stretch my arm into a cupboard to retrieve a glass, eyes subconsciously moving over the time on my microwave; 09.33. I can't help but frown slightly. I'd text Blaine yesterday, asking what time he wants to come over, and I'm yet to get a reply. Sighing heavily I pour myself some juice, returning to the sofa and my latest Vogue which I've been flicking through idly, contemplating whether or not to call him.

I'm torn; do I ring him and risk embarrassing myself, risk being impatient, risk being pushy? Or do I _not_ ring him, and risk not going round, risk not seeing him today, risk not meeting Ava?

Ten more minutes pass before my desire to see him finally outweighs my pride, and I pick up my phone and press his name. It rings for what feels like an eternity, and I start to think he's ignoring me. Maybe he's regretting inviting me round. Or maybe he's just regretting having anything to do with me, then suddenly he answers, his voice strained and a little hurried.

"Hey Kurt, everything okay?"

"Urm, yeah, fine, I just wondered when I should come over, if I'm still invited?" I ask, hurrying to add the final part, hoping desperately that I _am_ still invited and haven't just made a complete fool of myself.

"Didn't you get my text last night?" He asks, voice raising an octave in confusion.

I don't speak for a second as my mind falters; I'm sure I didn't get a text. Although, maybe I overlooked it, missed it, accidently deleted it? No, I'm sure I didn't get a text, anything to do with Blaine I'm sure I would remember. "I- No," I reply, a little confused myself.

"Oh…" he breaths almost silently, "Well, it just said to come over whenever you want really," he tells me, confusion mixing with something else I can't quite name.

"Oh, right, okay," I confirm gently, still clueless as to when I'm welcome to go over.

"Come now if you're ready," he says suddenly, voice noticeably more cheerful at the idea. I grin at how obviously happy this makes him before he continues speaking, "I've still got to shower, but I can leave a key under the front mat in case I'm not out when you get here, and you can let yourself in?" I can hear the question in his voice and I hurry to assure him.

"Yeah okay, sure," I reply enthusiastically, "Does Ava know I'm coming round? I don't want to scare her?" I tentatively question.

"Yeah, yeah she knows, I told her I've invited a friend to celebrate Mother's day with us. After everything I told her she's so excited to meet you," I hear fondness seeping into his voice, making me smile although a part of me is wondering what he may have told her. I open my mouth to ask, but before I can he's speaking. "Honestly, it was like getting her to sleep on Christmas Eve last night," he says through a laugh, and I laugh back half heartedly as images of Blaine celebrating Christmas alone with Ava swarm my mind.

Maybe he goes home to Ohio for Christmas. Maybe he'd been there last year, and all the years before that, just like I had. Maybe he'd driven the near two hour journey to Lima in the hope of randomly bumping into me, like I had to Westerville. But then again, the chances are he hadn't. I can't imagine him taking Ava home to Ohio often, not after how his parents reacted to him adopting her, and before that I imagine he would've spent Christmas in LA with Liam. So my attempts at 'randomly' bumping into him had been even more in vain than I'd first thought.

He speaks suddenly and interrupts my trail of thoughts, and for a moment I'm surprised to hear his voice, having forgotten where I am, my mind still focused on Christmas. "So, I'll see you soon," he says, and it's half a confirmation, and half a question. I promise him he will, before we say goodbye and hang up.

Considerably more excited than five minutes ago I begin to gather my things. Pushing my phone into the pocket of my jean and shrugging my jacket over my shoulders, I head for the door. Unable to resist smiling as I fling the two bags waiting in the hall over my shoulder and leave the house, door swinging shut behind me with a firm bang.

I hail a taxi and scramble into the back, piling the bags on the seat beside me. I tell the driver the address and settle back into the seat. My eyes are automatically drawn to the window, looking out I admire the city passing me by; hoards of people, cramped buildings, winding streets, blooming trees, all illuminated by the resilient sun.

I become so enchanted by the world outside and so lost in my own thoughts that I don't notice when we come to a stop outside a row of small terrace houses. I shuffle out, dragging bags behind me before thanking the driver and paying. He drives off without another word, impatient to get to the next customer. I frown slightly at his rudeness before looking up and down the street.

Both sides are lined with houses of the same design, all two stories with a bay window and a door set up a couple of steps, all with a small front garden and the same roof design. Yet they're all completely and unmistakably different. Painted in various colours, some white or beige or cream, simple and beautiful, while others are painted in innumerable pastel shades of blue or pink or green, reminiscent of cottages overlooking the sea. Some have modern PVC windows, slung open to the sun, while others maintain what I assume are original wooden frames. Some have gravel drives with cars parked at them, while others have small lawns. Some are gated while others remain open and some are surrounded by a brick wall while others have hedges. I grin at the simple beauty of the rows of houses, each of them unique to the family which lives there. I imagine how they look from above, like hundreds of mismatched soldiers lined up and prepared for an oncoming battle.

I glance up at the house directly in front of me, searching for a number; there's a small plaque by the door which reads 74. Realising I'm on the wrong side of the road I swing round, eyes scanning for 75, and I instantly find it and smirk, unable to hide my happiness at finally seeing the place Blaine calls home. It's just as identical, and just as unique as the other houses. Painted a very light shade of yellow with the original ornate windows, the front garden is open and bricked in a slightly off white colour. The front door is bright, shining red, contrasting dramatically with the pale shades surrounding it, instantly grabbing my attention.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves I cross the empty road, standing directly in front of the house. I have to physically stop myself peeking into the windows as I approach the front door. I stop in front of the door mat and lift it to find a small silver key underneath. I pick it up and replace the mat as an unusual warmth spreads through me, and I smile in the knowledge that the key had been left for me, and me only.

I raise a hand to knock on the door, partly hoping Blaine will answer, and partly hoping I will be left to let myself in, but before my knuckles make contact with the wood I hear the sound of a much smaller hand hammering against glass. I turn quickly to my left and see the excited, flushed face of a young girl staring hungrily at me from the bay window, her dark hair cascades around her face, bright eyes shining with excitement. She waves a tiny hand at me and I wave back, inwardly crooning at her adorable little face and her slightly chubby arms covered in baby fat. Suddenly she disappears, jumping down from whatever she's climbed on to see me, and before I've even had time to turn back to the door, the letterbox in line with my hips has flung open, and a tiny, accusatory voice is calling through it, "Daddy says I'm not allowed to answer the door, especially not to strangers."

I lower myself to look through it, smiling at the unmistakably familiar hazel eyes staring back at me. Before I have a chance to reply though, she's talking again, her voice high and excitable, eyes dancing with rebelliousness. "But he said Kurt would have a key, are you Kurt?" I grin even wider, opening my mouth to respond but she's already cutting me off again, "Do you have a key?" she questions hastily, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I stifle a laugh because her mannerisms are so similar to Blaine's; she really is a miniature version of him.

"Yeah, I'm Kurt, and I do have a key," I smile, raising the key to the letterbox to show her. I see the corners of her eyes crinkle as she grins widely, her eyes trained on the key.

"Then what are you waiting for?" She questions a little harshly, startling me slightly as her eyes flicker back to my own, "we could've had this talk face to face instead of through a letterbox," she begins to shake her head like a scolding parent, "You're silly Kurt, very silly," and with that the letterbox flicks shut with a bang of metal on metal, making me jump. I straighten up, laughing as I slide the key into the lock. I can already tell we're going to get on brilliantly. The lock clicks and I push the door open, expecting to see her waiting for me, but she's no where in sight, frowning slightly I step over the threshold of the door and push it shut.

I gingerly place the spare key on the only available surface, a small table pressed against the wall at the base of the stairs to my right, before allowing my eyes to roam hungrily around the hallway. It's small, and surprisingly bright, considering all the light's coming from the two doors leading off it. The floor's a very light wood and the stairs are carpeted in a cream that almost exactly matches. The walls are also cream, apart from the stair wall which is painted a deep plum purple and is almost entirely covered in pictures trailing all the way up the stairs to the landing. They're all in varying sizes and mismatched frames. I smile as I step closer to get a better look, instantly recognising Blaine's sister, Sophie, in a lot of the pictures with a man I don't recognise at all, her husband William most probably. There are occasional pictures of her parents, and a couple I assume are his parents, then my eyes catch on an old picture of Sophie and Blaine when they were younger, probably about 11 and 14, arms slung lazily around each other, squinting into the sun as the picture's taken, both with matching curly hair and golden eyes, matching smiles and matching hearts.

Without realising I reach out and touch my fingertip to Sophie's carefree smile, saddening at the thought of the future the young girl had no idea she was heading towards. Dropping my hand I continue to look over the pictures. I notice a wedding picture and smile widely at the pure happiness etched onto the features of the bride and groom, staring lovingly at each other instead of at the camera, seeming completely unaware the picture was being taken. There are various baby pictures of Ava, a few days old snoozing in her crib, a few months old peering up out of a pram, golden eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes, a year old, looking bewildered at a cake with a single candle being presented to her as she holds tightly to her mothers collar from where she rests on her hip. Then there are pictures of Ava and Blaine together, but they're few and far between and before I have a chance to really search for them, a voice from the top of the stairs startles me.

"You found it okay then?" I jump slightly at the sound of his voice, momentarily forgotting where I am as I turn to face him. He's stood smiling down at me, skinny blue jeans clinging to his muscled legs, hair still damp from showering, dripping onto his tight white shirt, he begins to walk down towards me, coming closer as I see one droplet fall from a curl onto the soft skin of his neck, just below his ear. I watch it gracefully slide all the way down his neck before stopping at the curve of his collar bone. I gulp, pushing the thought of copying its track with my tongue out of my mind and smile back at him before replying.

"Well, the taxi driver found it okay," I say with a hint of sarcasm. Finally he reaches the base of the stairs and stops in front of me, less than a foot of space separating us, so close I can literally smell him. I can smell the shower gel he uses, his shampoo and deodorant, and a smell which is completely his own. He smirks and I wonder whether he knows what I'm thinking. I cough a little to clear my mind before speaking again, "I urm, sort of spoke to Ava through the door, but when I opened it she'd disappeared."

"She told me she'd spoke to you," he says through a small smile as he walks past me and into the room leading off the very end of the hall. "She's upstairs putting on her favourite dress because apparently the one I ironed for her last night wasn't quite right," he rolls his eyes and I laugh, following him into what I now see is the kitchen. He dumps a pile of clothes I hadn't noticed he was carrying into a basket by the washing machine and turns to face me, smiling sadly. "Seriously Kurt, thanks so much for coming over, I don't know what I'd do without you."

I know he's only saying it out of kindness, because that's what you say when a friend helps you out, but I can't stop the little flip my heart does at the thought of him needing me. "No problem," I reply, because I really don't know what the accepted response is in our situation.

We stand in silence for a second, just staring at each other, before he breaks eye contact and nods behind me to the bags I've left by the door. "What's in all the bags anyway?"

"Oh yeah," I hurry over to get them, dragging them into the kitchen and heaving them onto the work top. "I didn't really know what you had planned for the day," he moves to stand beside me, so close the thick muscles of his upper arm press against me. I risk a glance at him but he's leaning forward to look in the bags. "And I thought, maybe, if you wanted, we could go for a picnic," I say quickly, suddenly scared that I've gone too far as I unzip the bags to reveal their contents. One is full of food, sandwiches, salad, pasta dishes, all in different tupperware containers. There are apples and oranges, a big bottle of water, and a smaller one of orange juice. There's also a pack of chocolate fingers, and some now crushed crisps, and a container of mini muffins I'd seen in the store which were just too cute to not buy. In the second bag is a huge blanket, sun screen and another bottle of water, and in the side pocket my camera, which I was unsure of bringing, so had hid it out of view.

Blaine hasn't spoke while I've unloaded the bags, making me nervous. Swallowing my fear I look up, just in time to see his face split into a huge grin. "That's a great idea!" he says enthusiastically, eyes scanning the food in front of him before turning to look at me. "You're amazing," he says, sounding awestruck. I feel blood rush to my face as I blush, turning to look away. "I had no idea what we could do today but this is perfect!" I hear the smile in his voice and my insides swoop, a sensation not dissimilar from when you go over the edge on a roller coaster. I shrug and mutter nonsensically; completely at a loss of what to say when by the grace of god I'm saved from saying anything by a shrill shout from upstairs.

"_Dad!"_We both jump a little and look at each others surprised faces before laughing; he steps round me and into the hall.

"What!" he shouts back up the stairs, and I can't resist smiling at how domesticated he is, but also at how relaxed and calm a parent he seems. If I'd ever shouted like that through the house when guests were round my dad would've promptly told me off and made me apologise, but Blaine doesn't, he just shouts back louder.

"You promised you'd come and do my hair!" a small voice whines from the floor above us. Blaine catches my eye and we both grin at the little girl's impatience, before he turns and climbs the stairs.

I'm quite happy to be alone for a few minutes; it gives me time to collect my thoughts, calm my heart and stop my hands from trembling slightly. Distracting myself from thinking about Blaine's unruly hair, the way his shirt clings to his chest and his smile when he looks at me, I glance round the kitchen. It's surprisingly large and airy, white wooden counters and a light wood worktop, creamy tiles covering the exposed pieces of wall. In the centre stands a white wooden circular dining table with four mismatched chairs all in different shades of red and white; one with a booster seat strapped to it. The floor carries on from the hall in the same light wood and the back wall of the house appears to be covered by a huge window, reaching from floor to ceiling, with a glass door next to it, opening out onto a small wooden deck with steps down to a lawn.

The last remaining wall is a bright red colour, similar to the front door, and hanging on it is a huge framed chalk board, covered in pictures and writing, obviously used often. I step forward to nosily read what's written there. One side of it's used as a calendar, important dates written up and wiped off. Scanning through them I see a dentist appointment from a few months ago, events with people whose names I don't recognise, birthdays and anniversaries, an upcoming parents evening. I smile at Blaine's life which is written in front of me. The other side of the board however is decorated in various pictures, and notes such as '_PE on Tuesdays'_and _'gas bill!',_I carry on reading, eager for more mundane facts about Blaine's life, when suddenly I'm interrupted.

"Kurt?" I hear Blaine question, and I turn to face him, ready to apologise for snooping. But stood in front of him is his niece, well, his daughter, in a long pink dress, obviously meant for summer. Her hair is pulled to one side and falls over her tiny shoulder in an expertly done, purposely messy, fish tail plait, with a small white bow tied at the end. "Meet Ava," Blaine smiles proudly as he pushes her towards me slightly.

She seems just as nervous as me as she glares at him over her shoulder before looking up at me, all bravado gone now a door doesn't separate us. "Hi," she finally says, grinning mischievously at me through dark eyelashes. I grin back which seems to encourage her slightly. "Daddy told me that when you was little your mummy went away to be with the angels as well," she states matter-of-factly and I glance swiftly at Blaine, who's staring at the back of her head, shock and a hint of anger stapled across his features. Settling my eyes back on hers I notice they've changed in that second, now sad and a little pleading as she continues to speak, "and daddy said that this day is for remembering my mummy because she's not around anymore, and I thought maybe," she stops to look over her shoulder at Blaine, who now just looks plain confused. When she looks back at me, a kind smile graces her angelic face, "I thought maybe, if you wanted, the day could be for both our mummy's, 'cause, well, your mummy's not here as well, but she's just as special as mine, and I-" another nervous glance at Blaine who's now half smiling, waiting for her to continue, she takes this as a good sign and turns back to me grinning widely again, "and I thought we could, like, remember 'em both?"

I'm taken aback for a second but then look up at Blaine, wondering whether he's put her up to this. But he's looking straight at me, concerned. I raise an eyebrow questioningly, and he instantly understands and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head, silently telling me 'no, this wasn't my idea.' He looks just as confused as I feel. Tearing my eyes from his I look back at Ava who's waiting expectantly for my answer, "I…" unsure of what to say I stutter. "Th- that's so sweet Ava, I'd love to share Mother's day with you," I finally say. Her face breaks into a huge, heart warming smile as she slings her arms around my legs, the fabric of my jeans muffling her squeal of excitement. Instinctively I lean down, placing my hands under her tiny arms and lift her effortlessly, she seems weightless as I rest her on my hip gently, she grins at me, now at eye level and ties her arms around my neck to snuggle in further.

I look up at Blaine who's smirking from the door way and my heart skips a beat as a thought races through my mind, _this could be my family_. But as soon as I allow myself to think it, I push it away, internally scolding myself for being so careless with my thoughts. There's no way this could be my family, it's a ridiculous thought and I hate myself for even considering it. I smile back at Blaine as I rest my cheek on Ava's tiny head, her breath tickling my collarbone while her small hands cling tightly to my neck.

"Guess what Av," Blaine says gently, stepping forward and raising his hand slightly, outstretched towards her. She raises her head and looked at him expectantly. "Kurt made us a picnic," he says grinning, eyes not meeting mine but staying locked on hers as his hand rubs comfortingly down her back, eventually reaching my arm which is tight around, but suddenly his touch changes. On her it was his entire hand, pressed against her pink dress, firm and reassuring, whereas on my arm it changes to just his index finger, grazing over my skin like a secret, and then it's gone. Replaced by a million goose bumps and a shiver down my spine as my mind races.

"Really!" she squeaks. Blaine nods and tells her to grab her coat and shoes; suddenly she's scrambling in my arms to get down. I loosen my grip and set her down, smiling fondly as she runs off. Straightening back up I feel Blaine's eyes on me, cocking my head slightly to look at him he smiles knowingly and then moves to pack the picnic back into the bag silently. I stay where I am, partly because I'm rooted to the spot in shock, and partly because I don't know whether I can handle the side ways glances I'm sure Blaine is throwing my way.

A loud slam and the click of a lock brings me back to reality and I turn to see Blaine locking the glass door to the back garden. He turns suddenly and speaks, "Sorry about her little speech, I just thought it'd make her feel better if she knew there were other people whose parents aren't around. Sorry if it was a bit close to the bone," while he speaks he pulls on a black hoodie that was slung over one of the dining chairs and drags the newly packed picnic bags over his shoulder.

"Oh no, it was fine, I don't mind. I was just a bit… surprised I suppose," I say truthfully, he nods and smiles, heading into the hall where I follow, "let me take a bag," I offer but he just bats my hand away playfully.

"I can't find my coat!" an impatient voice hollers from upstairs.

"Back of your door!" Blaine shouts back up, shaking his head at me disbelievingly. Then suddenly his face turns quizzical as he continues to watch me a little too intensely. I can almost see his brain plotting, easily recognisable by the sudden playful gleam in his eyes and the impish grin spreading over his face. "I wonder," he mutters under his breath as he raises a hand slowly.

"What are you-" I begin to question suspiciously before he jabs me forcefully in my side, just below my rib cage, right in my most ticklish spot. A spot he'd grown fond of when we'd dated, because whenever I got pissed at him for any reason, he'd just poke me there and I'd collapse in a fit of giggles, 'the best way to fix a fight' he'd always said, and I'd always replied with 'best way to start a fight as well'.

I shriek and bolt away instinctively, slamming my body into the staircase by accident in an attempt to escape. He laughs unashamedly, bending over and holding his stomach as I glower at him. After a minute of nonstop laughter he straightens up and looks at me, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as giggles over take him again. I turn away moodily, refusing to make eye contact, which only makes him laugh further. I can feel a giggle building up behind my diaphragm but I try my hardest to keep a straight face.

"I can see you're holding back laughter," he teases, nudging my in the same spot, lighter this time. I jump again, glaring at him, but as soon as I look into his shining eyes I can't hold it in any longer and I join in laughing, my eyes crinkling and my shoulders shaking. "Some things never change," he says reminiscently, and our eyes lock. I can see a whole range of emotions behind his too familiar eyes, and I'm sure mine reflect just the same emotions to him. Sadness and a hint of regret, topped with a grain of happiness and hope.

"Ready!" a small voice suddenly shouts, rousing us from our memories, followed by the hurried stomping of tiny feet on carpeted floor as she races down the stairs, sliding to a stop in front of us. We look away from each other hurriedly, him smiling at Ava and stepping forward to unlock the door, while I turn away, running a slightly shaking hand through my hair and over my now laugh free face. Stepping past Blaine into the bright sunlight, I can't help but wonder whether we're going to be skating around the edges of


	9. Chapter IX

Sunday May 12th2019(continued)

**Kurt**

There's a park nearby, Blaine had said, so that's where we're heading, him happily leading the way, both bags slung over his shoulder, bouncing heavily against his back with each purposeful stride. Ava's tiny hand automatically finds its way into his as they walk and he grins down at her. That tiny moment is so sweet, so simple and so loving that it makes my heart swell joyfully, and then plummet with sadness. Suddenly I miss my dad, I miss being young and carefree, I miss being able to reach out and grasp his hand when I'm scared, or lonely, or just when I need a little reassurance. Just as that thought crosses my mind Blaine turns to look at me, as if by some strange sixth sense he knows what I'm thinking.

"You alright Kurt?" he asks.

I glance up from where I've been staring at the ground moving below my feet. He's smiling in confusion as he no doubt tries to decipher my expression. "Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him, smiling back.

Ava turns to face me and smiles, glancing up at Blaine who nods a little reluctantly before turning back to face forward. Looking away from her dad to me, she stretches out her free hand towards me. "You can hold my other hand if you want Kurty," She says happily, motioning that I should.

I step towards her outstretched hand instinctively, feeling the need to be tethered to something, even if it is a little girl, so tiny she probably weighs less than a quarter of what I do. She smiles encouragingly as I grasp her miniature hand in my own.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, Blaine and I both holding her hand firmly and avoiding eye contact, both fully aware of what this must look like to passers by. I remember, all of a sudden, the day years ago in our shared past, when we discussed this exact situation, walking proudly down the street hand in hand with a child between us, and I'm sure he must be remembering the very same day. But the naivety and innocence of youth had no idea how wrong it would be.

"You're a lot taller than dad," Ava suddenly says, shaking me from my reverie. I look down at her smiling face as she glances between me and Blaine, comparing our size. I can't help the huge grin that spreads across my face as I look up at Blaine and see his incredulous expression, as he too looks at me. Our eyes lock and I can't repress the laughter which falls from my smiling lips. He smirks back, looking a little lost for words as he glances down at his daughter, swinging happily between us, proud of her excellent deduction skills.

"Mean," he mutters to her, acting hurt.

"But it's true dad, Kurt's way taller than you! Look how much more I have to reach to hold his hand!" she says enthusiastically, shaking her hand within my own to prove her point.

"Well, I'm taller than you," He says teasingly, tugging at her arm and easily lifting her a few inches off the ground.

She giggles and kicks her legs, desperately trying to reach the ground again as I lift my arm as well, easily holding her above the ground. "Yeah but you're _meant_to be taller than me, you're _old_!"

Blaine gasps, pretending to be insulted as he lowers her gently down. "I'm not that old!"

"How many years are you then?" she asks defiantly, sticking her chin out as she waits expectantly for his response.

"25."

"That's old," she states, nodding knowingly at me, and I nod back, stopping myself from laughing at the expression on Blaine's face. He chooses not to respond, which is probably wise considering Ava seems to have an answer to everything.

Finally we reach the park and I reluctantly drop Ava's hand to start setting up the picnic. As I do so Ava spots a playground not far away, empty but for a few parents and kids. She glances up at Blaine who's distractedly helping me, before making a run for it. She darts from his side towards the swing set. He bolts after her, and it only takes him a second to catch up with her, picking her up effortlessly and swinging her over his shoulder. "After!" he promises her, to which she reluctantly agrees.

It doesn't take long before the three of us are seated, food spread before us and plastic cups filled with drink. We eat happily, Ava randomly questioning Blaine on her mother.

_'What was her favourite colour?' 'Purple'. _

_'Did she prefer summer or winter?' 'Neither, she loved spring'._

'_How old would she be now?' '28'._

Blaine answers each question as best he can, occasionally veering off on a tangent when he remembers a story about his sister, which he happily shares with the small expectant girl in front of him.

'O_ne time when I was four, she took me outside in the snow and buried me right up to my shoulders before a neighbour saw us and told Granddad. She got in so much trouble but never once told him it'd been my idea from the start. I'd wanted to be a snowman.'_

'_On my eighth birthday I wanted a pink birthday cake, but Granma bought me a green dinosaur one instead, so on her way home from school she bought some pink icing and went over the green when Granma was upstairs, she wasn't allowed round her friends for a whole week.'_

'_When I was 13, I said I wanted to be a performer. She came to all my school plays and singing competitions, even when our parents told her not to encourage me else they'll ground her. She was grounded for a month when they discovered her sneaking out one evening to come see me. For that whole month she sat with me and practiced my lines'_

After I finish eating I remove my jacket, leaning back on my elbows qw my legs spread in front of me, listening to Blaine speak. His legs are crossed beneath him as he sits facing his daughter, hands swiftly motioning in the air as he recalls childhood stories, lips moving rapidly as he speaks, tongue occasionally darting out to dampen them. A warm breeze sweeps through the park just as the sun breaks bright and hot from behind the clouds. I close my eyes, revelling in the freshness and heat it brings as I lean right back, enjoying the feel of heat against my face and neck as I unbend my elbows and lie flat on my back on the blanket.

My eyes remain shut as I stretch lazily, tensing my legs and pointing my toes as my arms unfold above me and my back arcs upwards, releasing all the tension I haven't realised I've been holding in my muscles and bones. I moan slightly as my body relaxes and a heavy sigh escapes my lips, expelling all the air from my lungs as my spine slumps back heavily into the ground and my arms bend beneath my head like a pillow. I languidly open my eyes, wondering why there's suddenly silence, and my eyes find Blaine's. His eyes are languorously roaming over my outstretched body. I watch as they wander over my legs, wrapped in tight, dark jeans, sliding over my jutting hip bones and the couple of inches of exposed skin where my shirt has rode up, his eyes widening, mouth dropping open slightly with an inaudible gasp. I watch as his eyes rove over my chest and eventually trace up the curve of my neck, lips, nose, before settling on my eyes.

I raise my eyebrows questioningly at him, and for a second we just stare at each other. He unconsciously licks his lips and swallows heavily before darting his eyes away from mine swiftly, a bright, fiery blush working its way up his neck and cheeks like wild fire. I grin proudly before closing my eyes again and settling my head on my arms.

"What happened then?" Ava suddenly asks. And without looking I can imagine Blaine's face, red with embarrassment, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I err, I can't remember what I was saying…" He eventually says slowly.

"'Bout when mummy found out you liked boys instead of girls," Ava confirms for him, and I smile at the simplicity with which she say it. If only everyone could see the world through the eyes of a child, it would be a much simpler place.

"Oh right, yeah," he coughs and clears his throat before continuing with his story, a story I already know like the back of my hand. It is my story as well, after all. "Yeah, I was 16, and I'd met this really nice boy," he pauses and I'm sure he must be looking at me, and sure enough when I open my eyes and turn to face him he's smiling at me, a brief hint of red still lingering on his cheeks before he turns back to Ava. "And we started dating, like going to the movies together and things, in…" he trails off and I watch as he tries to remember the date. "Oh my god!" he gasps as realisation dawns, looking at me wide eyed, "it was May wasn't it?"

I nod, smiling at his forgetfulness, but more so at the fact he's vaguely remembered. "May 27th," I confirm, "two weeks tomorrow," I say with a hint of sadness.

"Oh… whoa," he says in shock, hand nervously running through his hair, "how many-" he begins to ask, more to himself than me, but I answer anyway.

"Nine years," I whisper, scared to continue looking in his eyes but even more terrified to look away. He breaks eye contact first though, averting his gaze to stare at the ground, and for a second we sit in silence, both overwhelmed by how much time has passed, how much has changed, how much _we've_ changed.

"_Dad!_" Ava elongates the word, kicking him lightly in the shin from where she's sat, he looks up at her, and for a moment seems surprised at where he is, "what happened with mum?" she asks, oblivious to our exchange.

"Oh right, well anyway, I'd been dating this boy for a couple of months when your mum met him by accident. She was home one day when we got back from the cinema. She saw us holding hands and she realised that I liked to hold hands with boys instead of girls," he tells Ava happily, a small, knowing smile gracing both our faces. Blaine's eyes glaze over slightly as he stares into the distance, no doubt remembering the day with crystal clear clarity just like I am.

'_Are you sure they won't come home early?' I ask worriedly as Blaine hurries me into his empty house._

_He laughs at my nervousness, 'No, I'm sure. They're off on some stuck up friends' yacht for the weekend' he rolls his eyes and then smiles widely at me. 'It's just me and you,' and I see the mischievous glint in his eye as he leans towards me, hands grasping my waist hungrily and backing me forcefully against a nearby wall. Instinctively I raise my hands and lace them around his neck, pulling his body flush against mine; crushing me against the wall as he hungrily presses his lips to mine._

_He opens his mouth slightly, tongue caressing my bottom lip and I gasp in shock, sucking the air from his lungs straight into mine as I open my mouth to reciprocate. Our tongues move purposefully together, eliciting small moans as he clings tighter to the tender skin of my waist, strong hands digging in as he pressed closer to me, trying desperately to close the non existent gap between us._

_Suddenly his lips are gone, and I move forward, tightening my arms around his neck, desperate for more, but before I can get what I want he's burying his head in the tender skin of my neck and sucking angry red marks into my pale skin. My head rolls back and bangs against the wall as I gasp. He chuckles into my skin, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin, sending a shiver down my spine, my entire body shuddering with the movement. I feel his hands loosen from my waist and move lower, tugging franticly at the hem of my shirt, pulling it loose of my jeans before working his warm hands over my stomach, up my chest. Every inch of me he touches is on fire, burning with pleasure and want and desire._

"_Need to move," I mumble incoherently into the silent house._

_He doesn't respond, instead switching sides, moving to kiss the other side of my neck as he drags his hands from under my shirt, trailing up the top of it, skilfully unbuttoning, ghosting his hands over the skin he reveals as he does so, following the path of his hands hungrily with wet lips, peppering my chest with kisses._

"_Need to move!" I repeat, tangling my hands in his hair and pulling him up to face me. He stops abruptly and looks at me, eyes entirely black and breath ragged, lips wet with saliva. "Can't… here. Living room?" I gasp, my eyes darting between his, hoping he'll understand my nonsensical rambling._

_He nods, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the nearby living room. He turns me around to stand in front of him, pushing his body against mine. I stumble, the back of my knees colliding with the sofa before I fall back, grasping him tightly to try and steady myself but instead pulling him roughly on top of me. He laughs joyfully and crawls over me, tugging me further up the sofa to rest my head on the arm rest. His knees rest either side of my thighs as he straddles me and pushes me heavily into the soft fabric, leaning down to continue kissing my exposed chest, my hands tangling in his unruly curls as my hips buck up involuntarily to meet his._

"_Erm… Blaine?" the sound of another voice in the room freezes us solid, his hands stilling at my fly and head immobile against my sternum. My hands in his hair grip tighter. He raises his head slowly to look at me, wide eyed and more scared than I've ever seen him, and I swear I can hear his heart hammering in his chest. I watch him gulp and dampen his dry lips before he turns to face the direction of the voice. I follow the his eyes and see, sat on the other sofa, a young woman with Blaine's curly hair and dark eyes, his sister, who looks just as shocked as he does._

"_Oh god," he says in a whisper "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" he repeats over and over again as he looks down at the floor and slides one unsteady foot off the sofa. He stands slowly, gently tugging his other leg from where it's trapped between my thigh and the back rest as with trembling hands I quickly button up my shirt and stand up. I glance between Blaine and his sister a few times, finally settling my eyes on my boyfriend. His entire body is literally shaking from head to toe. His chest heaving with ragged breath and his feet have automatically angled towards the door, preparing to escape._

_Out of the corner of my eye I see movement, and instinctively my head darts round. His sister is slowly standing, moving towards us, causing Blaine to step in front of me protectively. But then she smiles. She smiles so wide that confusion sweeps through me in waves as her eye flicker between me and Blaine, standing so close together I can feel his shaking body brushing against my still frame._

"_Hi, I'm Sophie, Blaine's sister," She says happily, stretching her hand towards me. I swallow and tensely shake it, muttering my own name as my eyes move from our joint hands to her smiling eyes, and then to Blaine's unreadable expression. She releases my hand and it drops lamely to my side._

"_Sophie I- I can explain, I was just- I mean, we were just- I can't- I don't-" Blaine stutters nervously, raising a still shaking hand to run through his hair, eyes searching his sisters pleadingly, begging her silently to not tell their parents._

_She laughs at his nervousness, "Oh come here you nutter," she says lovingly, pulling his shaking body into her arms, he stills even more as her arms wrap around him, "thought I'd come home and keep my baby brother company, didn't think you'd barge in with company of your own," she says still laughing, winking playfully at me where I stand at the side. I hear Blaine laugh lightly back, his body relaxing into hers as he wraps his arms around her and hides his now blushing face in the fabric of her jumper._

"_I suppose this is a less than conventional way of coming out," he mutters into her shoulder, causing her to laugh. She squeezes him one last time before pulling back, holding him at arms length._

"_You could say that," she grins widely before letting her hands drop from his shoulders. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asks suddenly serious, her eyebrows pulling down as she waits for an answer from her younger brother._

_He shrugs, looking away from her and instead towards me, as if suddenly remembering I'm here. He shuffles a few inches closer and tangles our hands together tightly, pretending to comfort me when we both knows it's to comfort himself. "I dunno, I just sort of figured your opinions would be the same as Dads"_

"_Oh my god! You've told dad, what happened!" she asks loudly, her words knitting together in shock._

"_What? No! No way, God, could you imagine!" He reassures hurriedly before continuing much slower. "No I just meant, well, he's never really hid his opinions on, well anything, so yeah, I assumed you and mum would agree with him that gay people__deserve to 'rot in hell'" he rises his free hand to symbolise quotation marks for the last three words, his voice dangerously laced with sarcasm._

"_Your dad said that?" I question without thinking, both him and his sister turned to look at me, two pairs of beautiful hazel eyes falling on me. He nods sadly and shrugs dismissively_

"_Blaine," she sighs, looking at her baby brother's face which is suddenly downcast and sad, resolutely staring at the carpeted floor below our feet. She raises her hand and nudges his chin, forcing him to look at her. I see tears glistening in his eyes as they connect forcefully with the identical eyes of his sister. "Firstly, don't ever, _ever_ compare me to our father, because I will have to seriously kick your ass!" she says, half joking and half serious, causing Blaine to laugh, "and secondly, and more importantly, don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. Anything at all, there's absolutely nothing you could say that will stop me loving you," she's smiling warmly at him as his tearful eyes light up with a smile. "And lastly, don't ever,_ever_, be ashamed of who you are, don't ever be afraid to_be _who you are, because you're incredible. You're clever, and kind, and loving and funny and generous and- hey don't shake your head at me," she scolds as he begins shaking his head and wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes. "I'm serious Blaine, you're one of the most selfless and faultless people I've ever met, and the fact that you like boys and not girls doesn't change a thing, because that's who you are, and you're perfect."_

"What did she do when she saw you and the other boy?" Ava asks intrigued, oblivious to the fact both her dad and I had zoned out for a second. Blaine looks down into her wide waiting eyes and smiling face which so resembles the woman we're talking about.

"She told me she loved me and that I should never be scared to be who I am," he says simply. Ava's face splits into a huge grin, "and I know that if she was here she'd say exactly the same to you sweetie," if possible Ava's grin gets even bigger, and she jumps up and swings her arms around Blaine's neck, he hugs her back, squeezing her tightly before releasing her.

"Can I go play now?" she asks, eyes darting cravingly towards the playground.

Blaine's eyes roam over the playground as well before speaking, "yeah, but you've got to stay where I can see you, okay?" she nods enthusiastically "Promise me Ava?" she promise feverishly before darting over to the playground which lies only 20 feet away.

I sit up slowly as I hear her tiny feet race away; opening my eyes to watch her run, dress billowing behind her, hair falling loosely from her plait. Sitting up properly I turn to face Blaine who's also watching her run further from us.

"She's beautiful," I say and he smiles, eyes leaving her retreating figure and instead focusing on me.

"She really is," he agrees. "She seems to like you," he adds laughing. I laugh back and glance at her as she slides happily down the slide. A comfortable silence sweeps over us, both occasionally glancing at each other before shifting our eyes to focus on something else.

"I can't believe it'd have been nine years if we hadn't…" he suddenly says, breaking the silence with the exact thought racing through my mind.

"I know, unbelievable isn't it?"

"Do you ever wonder…" he trails off, not needing to finish the sentence, his eyes saying more in one look than his lips could in an hour.

"Sometimes. Things would've been so different," I say thoughtfully as I look into his familiar eyes. Eyes that made me fall in love, eyes that changed my favourite colour to golden brown, eyes that at one point filled my wildest dreams, and then haunted my worst nightmares; eyes that broken my heart.

"Would _you_ have followed me to London?" he questions jokingly, but I know him well enough to hear the seriousness beneath his playful tone, well enough to see the genuine curiosity burning in his eyes, the comparison to Liam.

I look into his eyes forcefully, desperate to show him I know exactly what he's asking, _'did you really love me?'_ An immeasurable amount of time passes, it could be fraction of second or the longest hour before I speak, my voice unwavering and truthful as I stare at him forcefully, "I would've followed you to hell and back Blaine. A million times over."


	10. Chapter X

Friday June 14th 2019

**Blaine**

"Ava, I'm not joking! If you use that word _once more_ then I'm not buying you that doll you want, and you can't go Molly's next week," I say seriously, staring into the angry eyes of my three year old who I've just heard swear for the first time. "I'm serious!" I confirm one last time before closing her bedroom door, leaving her and Molly to carry on playing. Admittedly it wasn't a serious swear word, and I _had_ struggled to stop myself laughing, but I have to make sure she knows it's naughty and she shouldn't be swearing. I do, however, allow myself a small smile as I descend my staircase, turning the corner into the kitchen. Kurt glances up at me from the dining table where he's sat.

It's become a bit of a tradition since Mother's Day for Kurt to come over Friday evenings after he finishes work. The first time it happened, purely by coincidence, he said it reminded him of Friday Family Dinner Nights back in Ohio. Which, although I'll never admit is exactly what I was hoping it would remind him of. When we'd dated his family had included me in everything, made me feel welcome, while my own family shunned and ignored me. The least I could do was return the favour, considering how much he must miss having family nearby.

"What was that about?" he questions, unable to resist smiling as the grin on my face stretches wider, breaking into laughter as I sit back in my seat facing him.

"Ava's discovered swear words," I tell him, smiling and shaking my head in disbelief.

"No way!" he scoffs, "what'd she say?" he's laughing too, evidently also finding the idea of a three year old swearing a little funny.

"'Oh shit!'" I repeat for him, causing him to crack up further, his body rocking back in his chair, eye scrunching up with laughter. "She looked terrified when she realised I'd heard her though," I add, which just makes him laugh harder.

"What'd you do?" he questions, eyes bright with happiness.

"Threatened her with a doll she's wanted for ages," he sniggers even more at that, stomach quivering with each ripple of laughter, and I can't help but join in. We sit like this for a few minutes, occasionally giggling to ourselves, before the peaceful atmosphere is broken by the sound of my phone vibrating against the kitchen counter. I stand; a little confused at who'd ring me on a Friday night. The caller display reads 'Unknown', which only adds to my confusion. I answer it, holding it up to my ear, "Hello?"

"Hey Blaine, it's Phil, I know it's ridiculously short notice, but I'm really desperate, are you free tonight?" I hear pleading in the bar owners voice as I lean against the kitchen counter.

"This is beyond short notice Phil!" I laugh down the line, "and I'd love to, I really would, but I haven't got a babysitter," I explain.

I hear him sigh heavily before speaking again, "what about that young girl who sometimes looks after Ava for you?" he questions.

"She's on holiday," I respond apologetically, because I really am sorry. He's a great guy and has helped me out countless times, getting me singing gigs in his bar when I've needed some extra money. I've actually become a bit of a regular, and often get calls when someone cancels last minute. At first it'd just been because I live within walking distance, but more recently it's been because some of the regulars actually request me.

"Come on Blaine, I really need someone for tonight, we're starting to fill up already, can't you bring Ava along? She can sit behind the bar with me? I'll look after her!"

I laugh, "Are you joking! I can't bring my three year old and have her sit with you behind the bar, are you mental?" I ask jokingly, rubbing my tired eyes with my free hand. "I wish I could help you Phil. I need the money, but there's just no way-" I'm cut off suddenly by Kurt speaking from the table.

"I can look after her," he suggests.

I stare at him for a second, surprised. "One minute Phil," I say down the line before covering the voice piece and lowering it from my mouth. "Are you serious? No offence, but have you ever looked after a child on your own?" I ask, not wanting to sound patronising, but needing reassurance nonetheless.

"Technically? No, but I did look after Finn throughout high school, I can't imagine it being that different," he says jokingly as he smiles up at me. I'm unsure, I trust Kurt emphatically, and I really would love to perform tonight, but can I trust him with my child? He has, after all, only known her a few months.

I bring the phone back up to my ear, "Phil? Can I call you back in a couple minutes?" He agrees reluctantly, making me promise I'll take no more than five. I hang up and stare at Kurt for a second before speaking, "Don't take offence to this Kurt, but I really don't know whether this would be a good idea."

He cocks his head to the side a little in confusion before responding, "A friend needs some help at his bar right?" he asks, and then I realise he doesn't know the situation. I hurry to explain.

"Yeah, there's a bar about ten minutes from here where I sometimes sing and play guitar, just in the background as entertainment, but yeah someone's obviously cancelled last minute and well, yeah…" I finish when he starts nodding in understanding.

"How about, and just hear me out here," he says, spiking my curiosity, "why don't me and Ava come with you, you pop up and do your performance, and I'll just sit with Ava in a quiet corner somewhere, we'll take some colouring crayons or a puzzle or something and I'll just keep her entertained until you're finished?" I'm taken aback, and I probably shouldn't be, but the fact that he's willing to entertain a hyperactive three year old for me on a Friday night makes my heart soar in the strangest way.

"You'd do that for me?" I ask without thinking, averting my gaze as I feel a too familiar blush burn my ears and cheeks.

"Of course," he confirms, eyes not wavering from my own.

"Okay then," I say happily, unable to prevent a huge grin washing over my face as I press Phil's number on my phone. It only takes a second for him to answer, obviously waiting for my response. "I'll be there," I say before he even has a chance to speak.

"You will?" he questions, and I hear the hope in his voice. "Oh god Blaine, thanks so much. I don't know what I'd do without you!" He says, laughing in relief, "What time can you get here for?"

"Err, about eight, half eight? Ava's friends here and I'll have to drop her off at home, and then we'll head straight over. I'm bringing a friend who's going to sit with Ava; can you save him a table?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure, anything you want. I'll see you at eight. Thanks again, I owe you!" He hangs up quickly, but not before I hear him heave a huge sigh of relief. I place my phone on the counter gently before looking up to meet Kurt's oceanic eyes. They're sparkling, and I'm suddenly struck by how beautiful they are; a million different shades of blue and green and grey mixing together exactly like the ocean, and just as powerful. They can shimmer like the calmest sea or burn with the full force of the most powerful storm; they can push me to the safety of shore, or drag me deep into an inescapable hell.

"What?" He asks after a moment of me staring thoughtfully into his enthralling eyes.

"Nothing," I say quickly, blinking a few times to clear my mind. "I need to get Molly home," I say, more to myself than to him before pushing myself away from the counter and moving towards the hall, eager to get away from him long enough to sort out my thoughts. I shout up to the girls and after a short argument with Ava, I leave with the older girl, leaving Ava and Kurt alone, him promising to have her calmed down and ready to leave when I get home.

Forty minutes later I'm letting myself in home, which is surprisingly quite and calm considering when I left Ava had been lying on the floor throwing a tantrum. "Kurt?" I call out, peering into the living room.

"Upstairs!" his unmistakable voice shouts. I frown a little, wondering what they could be doing upstairs as I begin to head up. I find them both in Ava's room, Kurt sitting squashed on her tiny bed while she rummages through her wardrobe, extracting various items of clothing to show him with pride. "Oh, definitely that one! It's so pretty," he coos as she holds a sparkly dress against her body and twirls in front of him. He looks up at me where I stand in the doorway, "Don't get jealous, we've already picked you some clothes," he teases.

"You have?" I ask, my voice rising in confusion.

"They're on your bed," he tells me, turning back to Ava, pointing at her most sparkly shoes.

"You… you went through my clothes? In my bedroom?" I speak slowly, and realise too late that I sound like an idiot, because where else would he have got my clothes from?

"Yeah… is that okay? It was Ava's idea, I said we'd pick her some pretty clothes to wear and she suggested sorting yours out first," he smiles up at me after glancing towards the girl in question, who's currently struggling with the laces of her shoes.

"Urm, yeah it's fine I just… Yeah it's fine," I finish dumbly, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "Let me do them Av," I offer, stepping forward to help.

"I'll do it," Kurt cuts in swiftly, sliding off the bed to kneel beside her, tugging the laces gently from her angry little fists, swiftly tying them in bows with his long fingers. "You could never do it right anyway," he jokes, turning to look at me from where he's kneeling a few feet away from where I'm stood. His eyes focus on the knotted laces of the shoes I haven't bothered to take off, before they trail quickly up the entire length of my body, finally resting on my eyes. He smirks teasingly and stands up in front of me, swiftly yet gracefully.

My eyes don't move from his, watching them roam over my body, watching them come to rest on my own eyes, watching them as he stares at me as he stands up, now towering a few inches above me, and far too close. I can smell his unfamiliar cologne. Almost taste his skin. Can he see the lust burning in my eyes? Does he know that for the last month every thought that's raced though my mind has been about him, that I want nothing more than to taste every inch of his delicious skin? Nothing more than to push him roughly against the closest wall and ravish his lips, his body? Nothing more than to fuck him until he can't see straight, let alone walk?

I step back instinctively as these overwhelming thoughts swarm my already overloaded mind, my back collides with a wall and I become frighteningly aware of the fact that I'm stuck between his warm, lithe body and cold brick. "I should erm," I gulp, eyes falling from his to trace down his long neck, resting on his prominent collarbones, "go and change then," I tell him awkwardly, before sliding out of the room as quickly as my shaking legs can take me, not quite quick enough to miss his light chuckle.

I dash into the safety of my bedroom and slam the door behind me, pressing my back to it and rubbing my slightly shaking hands at my disbelieving eyes and flushed cheeks. _He will be the death of me_, I tell myself over and over as I try to calm my beating heart. After a few deep breaths I dare to open my eyes and move towards my bed, which has a pile of carefully folded clothes on. Without really registering what they are I pull them on, glancing quickly in the mirror as I head towards the door.

I stop abruptly, hand outstretched to the door as I gape at my reflection. A single, disbelieving laugh erupts, loud and shocked from my mouth, then suddenly I hear Kurt's memorable giggle stuttering behind my closed door.

"I can't believe you!" I shout. Shock and embarrassment evident in my voice as I stride towards my wardrobe and sling the doors open, angrily pulling the cardigan off my shoulders as I look for a new t-shirt.

"Can I see?" He asks through laughter from the other side of the door. "Please?" I hear him beg as I turn just in time to see the door handle creak down.

"No!" I scream, lunging towards the door to hold it closed. But I'm too slow, or maybe he's just too fast, because before I've even taken one whole stride he's swung the door open and bolted in. His eyes fall over my body, lingering on the t-shirt which I'm unfortunately still wearing before looking me in the eye. He erupts into laughter at the look on my face, a look of shock, anger and embarrassment, all of which is soon over shadowed by laughter when I can't resist joining in. "Get out!" I demand, moving towards him to push him forcefully towards the still open door.

"No way!" he manages through laughter, "I'm not letting you change, you have to wear it!"

"I don't think so Kurt, now get out while I change," I respond, trying to act angry through my laughter. He shakes his head at me while grinning widely. He's a lot stronger than he looks, and impossible to move, pushing against him with all my strength he doesn't budge an inch, despite occasionally being overtaken by giggles when he catches another look at the slogan blazoned across my chest. "Fine!" I huff in defeat, striding away from him and towards my wardrobe.

"You'll wear it?" he asks enthusiastically, moving to sit on my bed behind me.

"Erm… No!" I reply scathingly, rummaging through my clothes desperately before settling on a faded blue and white striped top. I turn to face Kurt, new t-shirt in hand; we look at each other for a second before he defiantly shakes his head, signalling no, he is not going to leave. I shrug at him and without a seconds hesitation pull the _'Likes Boys'_top over my head, replacing it with the new, less eye catching shirt.

As I tug it over my head and flatten it over my chest I could swear I see his eyes linger a little too long at the waistband of my jeans, hanging low on my hips, before they dart swiftly up to my eyes. I can still see laughter burning fiercely in his pupils. "Doesn't look as good," he comments shaking his head in mock disapproval. I push at him playfully as I snatch up my cardigan, heading towards the door. "Why've you still got it anyway?" he asks, not unkindly but curiously as he follows me. "I thought I'd lost it," he adds.

"Ava, are you ready?" I shout towards her door as I descend the stairs, turning to answer Kurt when I reach the bottom. "I found it in my dorm after-" I stop abruptly, our eyes locking, "when I was packing," I quickly try to remedy. He nods, "I didn't have the heart to throw it out at the time," I tell him truthfully with a shrug, to which he responds with a smile. Talking about our past is becoming increasingly easier, and I'm grateful.

"But… why still have it now? I mean, it was already out on your bed," he questions, and I can see he's genuinely inquisitive.

"Ava!" I shout up the stairs again, having received no response the first time, before settling my attention back on Kurt. "I sleep in it sometimes," I say without thinking, because it's normal to me. His eyes widen in surprise as he silently questions my sanity. "Not in a weird way!" I hasten to add upon seeing the look on his face, "Not because it was yours!" I assure him, "It's just, it's still a little big for me and well; it's cosy… and soft."

He laughs, opening his mouth to speak before we're interrupted by Ava dashing down the stairs at a hundred miles an hour. "I'm really excited!" she exclaims, grabbing both our hands in hers and dragging us towards the door.

When we reach Phil's bar, which is aptly named, _Phil's Bar,_ we're greeted by the man himself, waiting nervously for us. "Blaine!" He shouts when he sees us approaching. I introduce Kurt quickly as he ushers us in, pointing Ava and Kurt in the direction of a slightly secluded table with a _reserved_sign on it. They sit down as I'm unceremoniously pushed onto the small stage, guitar thrust into my waiting arms. I glance towards where I know Kurt's sitting, and see him happily talking to a waitress, no doubt ordering drinks as Ava pulls paper and crayons from her bag.

I smile before I start playing; mainly choosing songs I know are to most peoples taste, and occasionally taking requests. Every so often I let my eyes wander over to Kurt's table, watching him covertly as he colours in pictures with my daughter, seeing him take her tiny hand in his to show her how to draw something she's struggling with. Every so often he raises his wine glass to his lips and takes a sip, occasionally catching my eye and smiling encouragingly.

Time passes quickly, as it always does when I'm enjoying performing. The bar's packed, people having flooded in, stood lining the walls. The air is warm and thick, stuffy with mingled body heat, the sound of laughter blending together pleasantly with happy conversation, filling the large but cramped room. Phil hands me a fresh, ice cold pint of water, and I gulp it down desperately, thanking him.

"Okay, this is my last song," I say into the microphone, eliciting a collective groan and playful _'boo!'_from the collection of people crushed into the bar. "I do have a little girl to get into bed!" I retaliate laughing, motioning towards Ava. Glancing in her direction myself I see that at some point after returning to the stage after my short break, unbeknown to me, she's crawled onto Kurt's lap and fallen fast asleep, her head buried cosily into the crook of his neck, a tiny hand grasping the collar of his jacket. I hear a few _awh's_at the image of my daughters sleeping frame. My eyes lock with Kurt's, who blushes under the intense gaze of so many heads turning towards him.

I laugh lightly at his expression before glancing at my watch, pushing it further up my arm where it fits better, it having slipped down my sweaty skin sometime during the night. It reads just before mid night. I sigh heavily, accepting another glass of water which I drink from before putting it on a nearby table. Running my hand through my hair habitually I'm surprised to find it wet, sweat dripping down my skin, my hand laces around my neck as I feel beads slide slowly down my temple, dripping from my jaw. Self conscious of my less than put together appearance I raise the bottom hem of my top to try and dry some sweat from my face.

An expertly produced wolf whistle rings loudly through the bar, setting off a series of girly giggles throughout the cramped room. I glance up smiling, scanning the nearby tables, my eyes locking with a young pretty woman with shining green eyes and long dark hair. She winks at me coquettishly, eyes flickering down to my still exposed torso before tracing an obvious line up my chest, over my shoulders and settling on my face before an impish grin spreads over her face. I smile back a little flirtatiously as I straighten my shirt over my body; sitting up properly and picking my guitar back up. Resting it on my knee I curl my hands around it, and begin strumming the opening rhythm to a song I'm surprised I still remember, one or two people cheer upon recognising it, before the piano player joins in and I start to sing, my eyes focused on the neck of the guitar.

"_A lovestruck Romeo, sings the streets of serenade / Laying everybody low with a love song that he made / Find a streetlight, steps out of the shade,"_ looking up into the crowd, I lock eyes with the wolf whistling young woman as I sing the next line, leaning towards her playfully, "_says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"" _I wink playfully and watch as a smirk spreads across her face, accompanied by a light blush.

Glancing back down as my fingers move, I inwardly laugh at my behaviour, if only she knew, _"Juliet says, "Hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack" / He's underneath the window, she's singing / "Hey, la, my boyfriend's back" / You shouldn't come around here, singing up at people like that,"_ I look back up at the audience, many of them talking amongst themselves, others listening happily while a few sing or mouth along. _"Anyway what you gonna do about it?" _I sing the final line of that verse, my voice growing more confident, as my fingers move faster to keep up with the increasing tempo.

_"Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start / And I bet, and you exploded in my heart / And I forget, I forget, the movie song / When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong? Juliet" _I look back down at my guitar as I strum out the few seconds of melody, before looking up again and continuing singing.

"_Come up on different streets, they both were streets of shame / Both dirty, both mean, yes and the dream was just the same / Then I dream your dream for you, and now your dream is real"_Unintentionally my eyes fall on Kurt who's smiling wistfully at me. I smile back, but sadly, realising just how much this song could be applied to us. _"How can you look at me, as if I was just another one of your deals?" _A thought that's plagued me for weeks now races through my mind; to Kurt, am I just an ex? Not a first love, or a real love, or anything significant, but just one of many ex's?

I shake the thought from my mind as I sing the next line, _"You can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold"_Locking eyes once again with the green eyed woman for the next line as I smile, _"You can fall for pretty strangers, and the promises they hold."_ And as much as I try to stop my head moving in his direction, as much as I try to not make eye contact, it's no use; the next line I sing straight to Kurt, his eyes widening in surprise, _"You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin, yeah / Now you just say, "Oh, Romeo, yeah, you know, / I used to have a scene with him""_

I force myself to look away, but just because my eyes aren't trained on him doesn't mean the words aren't _for_ him. "_Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry / I said, "I love you like the stars above, I love you till I die" / And there's a place for us, you know the movie song / When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet"_

"_I can't do the talk, like the talk on the TV, / And I can't do a love song, like the way it's meant to be, / I can't do everything,"_I fail tremendously as my eyes once again find his now tear filled blue ones in a crowd of strangers,_"but I'd do anything for you / I can't do anything 'cept be in love with you."_

This time it's his turn to avert his eyes, forcing them onto the old worn table in front of him, and I watch as he lifts the arm that isn't tucked around Ava and wipes furiously at his eyes. But I continue to sing, reluctant to look away, _"And all I do is miss you, and the way we used to be,"_he glances up quickly at that line, our eyes connecting, him cocking his head to the side questioningly, no doubt wondering whether I mean it. And I really do mean it, I suddenly realise as I sing the next couple of lines, _"All I do is keep the beat, the bad company / And all I do is kiss you, through the bars of a rhyme / Juliet, I'd do the stars with you, any time"_

Finally I drag my eyes away from him, looking over the crowd instead as I repeat the final verses, but no matter where I look I can still feel him watching me intensely, scrutinising the song lyrics. _"Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry / I said, "I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die" / And there's a place for us, you know the movie song / When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?"_

_"A lovestruck Romeo, he sings the streets of serenade / Laying everybody low with a love song that he made / Find a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade / He says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"_

I can't resist a shy glance in his direction as I sang the last line, before averting my gaze to the guitar as my fingers effortlessly strum out the last few dying notes.

The majority of the crowd claps or cheers as I step down from the stage, smiling my thanks and making my way over to Phil who's motioning to me. I feel a strong hand clamp down on my shoulder as I push through the crowd. I turn, expecting to see Kurt, but am surprised to come face to face with the flirty woman from earlier.

"Hey," she purrs, stepping forward, far too close, her eyes dark. "You're quite something else," she grins, her hand moving from my shoulder to tangle in my hair. Laughing nervously I try to gently extract her hand, but she has a tight grip as she pulls my face in close to hers, pressing her slender body against mine. "Call me sometime," she whispers seductively, her lips inches from my ear, I jump slightly as I feel a cold hand slide easily into the back pocket of my jeans, before she pulls away, setting me free, smirking and waltzing away.

I'm frozen, watching her retreating figure, before Phil's voice brings me back to reality. "Hey Blaine, that was great, here's your money," he presses a wad of notes into my hand and thumps me on the shoulder. "I'd love to stop and chat but they need me behind the bar, thanks again mate," he thumps me again and walks away. I slip the money into my pocket and stretch my neck to try and find Kurt. I see his table, now empty but for his empty wine glass. Frowning slightly I make my way to the door, assuming he must be waiting outside. And sure enough he is, stood a few feet away, leaning against a low wall away from the smokers, Ava still fast asleep on his chest, her legs wrapped loosely around his waist. I shout and gesture him over. He stands slowly, careful not to wake the sleeping child, and wanders over to me.

He grins at sleepily as we began to walk back to my house, falling into step together. "D'you want me to take her?" I offer, stretching my arms out to take Ava.

"No, it's fine, honest," he assures me, jumping her further up his body, her head lolling peacefully on his shoulder. I drop my arms awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them. We walk in silence, the night surprisingly quiet and warm, and I'm shocked to discover the atmosphere between us is not at all awkward, just a little strained, for lack of a better word. We walk slower than usual, mostly due to exhaustion, but partly because we're in no rush to leave each others company.

"If you'd worn the top I chose for you, that woman wouldn't have come onto you," he says suddenly, breaking the silence which had easily stretched to five minutes. I look round swiftly, trying to decipher his tone, is he angry? Or jealous possibly? But he seems neither, just smiling pensively out of the corner of his eye at me, and I smile back, laughing lightly.

"Yeah maybe," I agree, glancing down at the ground, a smug smile gracing my lips. Neither of us speaks again until we reach home. I flick on the hall light as we walk in, the sudden brightness startling Ava's sleeping form, her eyes blink open groggily and focus quickly on me. Stretching her arms out as she leans towards me. I take her willingly, and as soon as her weight's lifted from Kurt's arms he shakes them loose and stretches them over his head. My mind reels back to Mother's day when he'd stretched out so temptingly in front of me at the park, and my eyes automatically dart to those few exposed inches of creamy flesh stretched between his hip bones, just as they had that day. This time however he doesn't notice my leering; his eyes squeezed shut as he yawns.

"I'll just take her up to bed," I tell him. He nods quickly, eyes still tight shut as a huge shaking breath escapes his lungs as his yawn comes to a close. His eyes open and he smiles at me. "You'll wait?" I ask with a little hesitation, unsure of what he'll think of my request. But he simply nods again in response, making his way into the living room as I dart up stairs, Ava already nodding back to sleep against my chest.

I managed to get her to stand upright as I remove her shoes and pull her sparkling dress over her head, then with some difficulty I wrestle her sleepy form into her pyjamas before tucking her gently into bed, kissing her lightly on her head and wishing her sweet dreams, even though she's already fast asleep.

I dash back down the stairs, halting briefly on the bottom step to take a deep breath to try and calm my thumping heart and racing thoughts. Heading towards the living room door I notice with some confusion that Kurt hasn't bothered to turn any lights on, why is he sat in darkness? I walk in and turn, my eyes instantly falling on him. He's lying on his right side on the sofa facing the fireplace; head nearest to me while his feet lie still flat on the floor, nearer to the window where he must've originally sat. I move round to stand in front of him properly. He's tucked his right arm under his head, which in turn rests on the arm rest, his left arm held against his chest, hand gripping his own neck. His chest rises slowly, rhythmically, hypnotisingly. I have to physically resist the urge to reach my hand out and wrap it around his slim waist, the urge to lie by his side, the urge to whisper eight years worth of apologies and regrets and sorrows into his soft skin.

Instead I make my way to the windows and pull the curtains closed, shutting out the bright white moonlight which shines on his pale skin. Picking up a blanket which lies folded on the arm chair pressed into the bay window. I unfurl it over him, picking his legs up to rest them on the sofa, lightly unlacing his boots and tugging them off. I straighten the blanket over him, tucking it in behind him and around his legs, before moving to tuck it in at the front, working my way up his body. I press it beneath his thigh, his hip, his shoulder, before looking up into his face.

Only a few inches separate us, his expression's serene and almost child-like, long eyelashes flickering softly against the pillows of his cheeks as he dreams, lips pulled up at the sides into a small smile. I lean down slowly, silently, careful not to disturb him as I press a tender kiss to his forehead, my lips barely grazing his soft skin before moving slowly to hover a centimetre from his ear, simultaneously tracing one finger lightly against his soft hair as I whisper, "sweet dreams Kurt," my voice hardly making a sound against the pressing silence of night.

Then I force myself to stand and move towards the door, knowing deep down that I want nothing more than to curl up beside him and dream. I step out after one last glance at his sleeping form, pulling the door shut before I hear his response, faint and muffled with sleep, "sweet dreams, Blaine.


	11. Chapter XI

Saturday June 15th 2019

**Kurt**

The soft cushion moves beneath me, just enough to startle my sleeping brain and wake me sheepishly. I'm confused for the briefest second, the feel of fabric and pillow soft beneath and behind me, a blanket weightless over me, puddling at my waist. My head rests on the arm rest of the sofa I've evidently fallen asleep on, and I'm surprised to find my shoes have been removed. I force my eyes open groggily; blinking momentarily in the new found brightness, although really the room is less than bright, curtains pulled tight shut and lit only by the light able to filter through. Frowning slightly I realise that I am in fact in Blaine's living room, asleep on Blaine's sofa, Blaine's favourite blanket wrapped loosely around me. And then I notice the man himself, leant against my new bed, back in line with my chest, close enough to smell, close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough that he can probably feel my breath tickling his neck.

I then notice the TV is silent in the background, subtitles flashing up as a newsreader outlines the headlines. I smile, knowing he's turned it down so as to not wake me. For a few minutes I just watch him, familiar and yet unfamiliar.

His back is pressed against the sofa, and I realise his movement is what must've woke me. His legs are bent up and tucked against his arched chest, arms wrapped tight around his shins, holding them to him. I can see faint stubble creeping along his jaw and chin, and as if at that very moment he feels my gaze lingering on his cheek bones and strong jaw, he bows his head down, resting said cheek on his bent knee's, preventing me from seeing anything but his mop of unruly morning hair.

But I'm not complaining. I've always loved his hair, especially now it's free of gel and a little longer. In the morning, as usual, it's even more curly and unruly than ever; just how I like it most. And I don't know whether it's because my mind is still foggy with sleep, or because I'm so engulfed in his world, but suddenly I have an overwhelming urge to just touch him, and I can't prevent my arm which previously lay curled around my own chest reaching out. Slowly and tentatively to trace a finger along the ridge of his arched neck; moving upwards from his white collar, over the hills and valleys of his spine before splaying my fingers and burying them gently in the thick hair at the base of his neck.

He shivers beneath my unexpected touch, the movement rippling down his spine as he groans in comfort, raising his head and pressing back against my hand, changing my touch from a gentle whisper to a hungry grasp. I see the flicker of his eyelashes as they close, mouth dropping slightly open as he rolls his head to fit more comfortably in my palm, lips curved into a gentle, peaceful smile. I move then, but instead of moving away from him, which would be expected, I move closer, something I should think about, but don't, because all I want to do these days is touch him, whenever and wherever I can get away with it. Brushing past him in the kitchen as I reach for a cup, touching his shoulder or arm or hand when I laugh, 'accidently' tripping and grabbing him for support

Pressing harder I move my hand from behind his head, back to the top of his spine, before I trail my arm around him. He groans again as my hand shivers down the muscles and tendons of his neck, tilting his head away from my hand to reveal more skin, effectively moving closer to me as I outline complex patterns on his strong neck and stubbled jaw.

We stay like this for some time, my fingertips running languorously up and down; occasional shivers running through his body when I touch particularly sensitive skin, until eventually he raises one hand and touches it to mine, stopping my movement. I watch uneasily as his dazed eyes lazily stutter open and his head turns to face me. Our eyes lock and I'm surprised by how awake I suddenly am, blood pumping rhythmically in my ear, my hand which isn't around him tensing in anticipation.

What is he going to say?

Will he ask me to stop before this goes too far, or ask me to keep going and never stop? Will he tell me he regrets singing to me last night, or that singing to me is all he's ever wanted to do with his life? Will he say the infamous six words, _I think we need to talk,_or the famous five words, _I never stopped loving you_?

"You have no _idea_how good that feels," is actually what he says, breaking my trail of thoughts, momentarily surprising me after having braced myself for a kind worded rejection. His hand tightens on my own as I smile back in response. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you've just woke up?" he asks casually, head falling inquisitively to the side, as if he calls me beautiful every day, as if I wake up next to him every day.

"Not in eight years," I reply semi-jokingly. He chuckles and turns his body to face me properly, kneeling with one arm still holding my hand wrapped around his neck and the other resting on the edge of the sofa next to my chest. I immediately notice the words _'Likes Boys'_stapled across his shirt and can't resist a smile.

"Some things never stop being true though," he says through a reminiscent sigh, tearing his eyes from mine as his hand which rests on the sofa stretches slightly to cup my neck. He then begins tracing light patterns on the delicate skin just as I had for him, his eyes moving to follow the line of his finger, which are warm yet still send cold shivers down my spine. I smile at his touch as my eyes flicker shut. "Feels good doesn't it?" he asks through a smile as I curve more towards his hand, wanting more. I groan in response, the noise deep and throaty, no doubt tickling his fingertips where they rest. "Did you sleep okay?" he asks.

"Mmhm," I nod, nestling further into his hand, nuzzling my cheek against his palm.

"I'm glad," he whispers gently, and I can practically _hear_ the smile in his voice as his palm moves up to cup my cheek, the rough calluses of his thumb ghosting over the thin skin of my eyelid.

"'M sorry," I mumble, slowly opening my eyes to look at him. He frowns in confusion, his hand stopping its movements and instead just resting against my pulse.

"Sorry? For what?" he asks a little too seriously.

"Sleepin' here," I mumble again, my mind addled by sleep and comfort. He laughs in response and continues to touch me, stroking new patterns behind my ear and along my hairline.

"Don't apologise, you're always welcome," he says, and I don't reply because I don't need to. I can here the sincerity in his voice; no words are needed. That's the thing with us, we can have an entire conversation in one look; we can express opinions and read each others in the twitch of an eyebrow, the nervousness of a movement, the darting of an eye. I can tell by the tone of his voice over a crackling phone line that he's had a bad day, that Ava's in a bad mood, that he wants me to go round but is too scared to ask.

My mind has wandered aimlessly, body enjoying his touch so much I could easily fall into a million day dreams. Then suddenly he stops, his hand's gone, and my neck feels far too exposed. I open my eyes to look at him, and am startled to see he's looking away sadly.

"Wha-" I begin to ask before he speaks, so quietly and gently that I have to strain to hear.

"What're we doing Kurt?" his eyes connect so forcefully with mine that I'm startled, my breath hitching in my throat, heart hammering.

"I- I don't underst-" I begin stuttering, not wanting to have this conversation.

"Don't say you don't understand, I just can't…" he speaks loudly and cuts me off, before trailing away himself, dropping his hand from where it still hold my other one round his neck, raising both to rub tiredly at his eyes, raking through his hair. He sighs loudly before starting again, "I just need to know where we stand," he finally says, looking at me expectantly.

I drop my hand from where it still rests against his shoulder, the movement not going unnoticed as he frowns at the loss of contact. "I don't know…" I say, bending my elbows and hitching my body slightly further up the sofa, slightly further from him. But he isn't deterred; he just nods knowingly, reaching out to tangle one of his hands with my own loosely, heightening my confusion.

"Do you know what you want, _at all_?" he finally asks; voice quiet and shaky, eyes averted to the side as if he's scared of the answer. I know he's really asking _who,_not _what,_and I know, without a shadow of a doubt. I know who I want at this moment; I know who I want for the rest of the day, for tomorrow. I know who I want next week, next year all the years that inevitably follow. I know who I want for the rest of my life. But I'm just too scared to speak, scared in case he doesn't want the same, scared in case I'm misreading the situation, just scared of being hurt.

The silence stretches on immeasurably, neither of us willing to break it.

Then he starts speaking hastily, rushing to get across everything he feels before his mind overrides his heart and stops him, "you have to understand Kurt I can't just keep- keep seeing you, _all_the time. I can't keep acting like we're just old friends who sometimes hang out, because we're not and we _both_ know that," he's shaking his head at me to emphasise his words and if I didn't know better I'd believe that I can see the hint of tears glistening in his eyes. "It's just too hard to be around you, _all the time,_but never able to- not able to-" He stops speaking, taking a great shuddering breath before standing and moving away from me swiftly, facing away as he once again runs slightly shaking hands through his hair.

"Not able to what, Blaine?" My voice breaks slightly as I build up enough courage to ask, swinging my legs off the sofa and sitting up properly, pushing my hands between my knees to stop them shaking as I look up at him.

A few seconds pass before he speaks, "touch you," he whispers almost inaudibly from where he's stood, still facing the wall, back to me. My head darts up. "Kiss you," he adds, equally quietly, causing me to half rise from my seat, eager to go to him. "L- Love you," he finally stutters, turning quickly to face me, eyes glazed with tears and cheeks flushed, hands fisted either side of his face in frustration, eyes blinking rapidly to hold back tears.

Standing properly I take a hesitant step towards him, arms slightly outstretched, but as I do so he steps back, the gap between us remaining the same, and dejectedly I drop my arms, instead wrapping them protectively around my stomach. "I-" I cough gently to clear my throat and swallow, licking my dry lips. "I didn't know you… you wanted… _that_," I end rather lamely, brows furrowed as I rack my brain for an appropriate response

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks firmly, still fisted hands dropping to his sides. "Why wouldn't I want you?" eyes darting between my own dangerously, and I watch as a slight shake builds up inside his body. "You're so incredibly beautiful, so clever, painfully witty, you have such a huge heart and you're just so… so perfect! So, so, _so_perfect, I can't even describe you Kurt, you're indescribable, you're beyond words. And it… it hurts me _so_ much when I realise you're not mine, that we're…" his voice quivers as tears finally spill from his eyes, "we're you and me and not… _not us,_" he finishes, desperation seeping into each syllable as every bone in his body shakes and he forces his fists into his eye sockets in pain and frustration and sadness.

"Blaine I-" I take another step forward, wanting nothing more than to engulf his weeping body in my arms and promise him the world, the galaxy, the entire universe. "Can I-" as I speak as I nervously place a hand on his forearm and he jumps, lowering his hands from his red eyes to shake his head, stepping away from me again.

"I- just- no- I just-" he stutters before finally forcing a sentence out, "I can't stop it Kurt," his eyes once again bore into mine as his voice grows stronger, head shaking yet eyes pleading.

"S-stop what?" I beg, confusion sweeping through me as tears begin to spill from my own eyes and the need to touch him and comfort him and love him builds up inside me even more, a fire burning out of control.

He runs a shaking hand down his face, holding it momentarily over his mouth, as if to stop words escaping, before finally whispering between parted fingers, "Seeing you," and as he says it his eyes intensify, pupils constricting in anger.

"Seeing me? I don't-" A fresh wave of confusion washes over me and I feel like I'm drowning and he's the only thing to grasp to stop myself being swept away, yet every time I take a step closer he pulls away.

"With him!" He finally yells, hands dropping from his face and fisting at his side. "I can't stop seeing you, _with him._Touching him and loving him and _wanting_ him. Moaning for him like you were supposed to moan for me! Begging and writhing and- and- and _fucking_!" He's shaking in earnest now, huge gasps of breath filling his lungs, tears falling like a monsoon down his flushed cheeks, teeth clamped shut. "I just… for fucks sake Kurt, _it's all I see!"_ I open my mouth to talk, to apologise, to beg, but he speaks again, voice loud with anger and rage and sadness and I've only ever seen him like this once before, but somehow this is more terrifying, because so much time has passed since the event in question, somehow it doesn't feel as real to me, but he's evidently still raw with emotion.

"Every time I see _you_ I see _him_, and I don't want to see _him_! God!" he screams, tearing his eyes from mine and pulling at his hair furiously, turning away from me and instead pressing into the wall. "I just want to see _you_! Always! Always, always, _always_you, but I fucking can't because _he's_there," he practically howls into the wall before he drops, knees colliding painfully with the wooden floor, entire body crumpling in on itself, shaking uncontrollably.

"Blaine I- god Blaine, please let me touch you, I can't- I can't bear to see you like this, I just-" I blubber, no longer even trying to hold back my tears and I kneel down beside him, my hand hovering uncertainly over the curve of his shaking spine. But I don't need to wait for an answer, because within seconds he drops towards me willingly, lying in the foetal position, head resting on my thighs and without a moments hesitation I curl one hand under his head and the other around his waist, lifting him slightly as I cross my legs, pulling him completely into my arms. He's small enough to fit quite snugly on my lap, head buries in the crook of my neck, hands automatically grasping at the collar of my shirt as he quivers in my arms.

"Why didn't you say something before?" I ask, because I don't know where else to begin. He doesn't respond apart from to shake his head and grasp tighter to my neck. "I didn't know it still bothered you after so many years, else I woul-"

He speaks over me, voice far quieter and muffled but considerably more powerful, "why wouldn't it still bother me Kurt? You fucked someone else and then disappeared!"

I gasp at his words, replying quickly, my own anger building, "I did not _disappear_! You told me you never wanted to see me again, I did what you asked!" I start to get defensive but he just shakes his head against my chest.

"I didn't mean it!" he argues as I feel a warm tear drip onto my chest and soak through the fabric of my shirt.

"How was I supposed to know that?" I ask hoarsely, realisation dawning. Does he genuinely think he meant so little to me?

"You just were! Kurt, you knew me better than anyone, you should've known I'd never not want you, you should've known that was just the anger speaking, how could I ever not want to see you again?" his shaking has calmed considerably, sobs becoming less frequent, voice less erratic, but he still burrows further into me, head still shaking defiantly.

"I… I dunno Blaine, you- you said you hated me, you never wanted to see me or hear from me again, you said I was dea-"

"_Do not,_" he screams, "finish, that, sentence!" then his voice calms, breathing deeply between each word in an effort to contain his anger. "God Kurt, I forgave you within minutes!" his voice once again sounds pleading as my confusion spikes for the hundredth time. He starts to pull away from me slightly, and despite how desperately I cling to him, he manages to wriggle out of my grasp. Positions himself in front of me, he crosses his legs, our knees pressing together and hands so entangled I can't tell which are my own.

"Blaine I… How could you have forgiven me, I mean..." he's shaking his head in response, so I stop and allow him to speak instead.

"How could I _not_have forgiven you Kurt? You were everything I ever wanted or needed in life, what we had was… It was more important to me than life itself, _you_were more important to me than life itself. I was angry for like… thirty minutes," he shrugs, "and then I was just confused and depressed and alone. By that time you were gone and I- I didn't have the balls to call you and ask you to come home. I thought maybe you'd try and win me back, but you-" he hiccups, words coming out rapidly and mingling, "you didn't try and I- I think that's what hurt most. That you didn't even care enough to try and- and get me back…"

"Blaine, I didn't know!" I beg, squeezing his hands tighter and shuffling closer until my knees are resting atop his. "I didn't know! I believed what you said, I'd never seen you like that I just- I felt so fucking awful and you were so perfect to me all the time, and I- I ruined everything. Oh god I ruined every-fucking-thing," I'm shaking my head as I tug my hands free of his, they come easily, he's no longer even clinging to them. I rub them down my face and over the soreness of my eyes.

I bury my head in my own knees and instantly a hand nestles into the nape of my neck, and like usual he's comforting me, when this is completely my fault. We sit in a strained silence for a few minutes, occasional heaving breaths breaking the silence, until he speaks. "I can hear Ava getting up," he says gently, and I'm surprised for a second, having forgotten we are in fact in Blaine's living room with his daughter asleep upstairs on a Saturday morning. It just feels too much like we've become lost in our own bubble.

I nod and sit up, leaning forward to once again hold his hands, but he looks away, moving them away discretely as he pushes himself up to his feet and steps away from me, still sat huddled on the floor. I stand up slowly and hesitantly, terrified of what he's going to say. How can he go from so incredibly angry and emotional and loving to so detached and quiet?

"I erm… I think you should leave Kurt," he says eventually, voice calm and authoritative, no hint of wanting anything different. My breathing hitches and my eyes widen, it feels like he's plunged his hand into my chest, ripped out my heart and tore it to shreds in front of my eyes, and now he's kicking me out; I feel broken.

"The… the house? Or, your life?" I ask, and instantly my mind reels back to his break up with Liam and how he'd asked basically the exact same thing. I recall his answer to Liam, and my heart hammers even louder, frantically trying to beat out of my chest and leap towards Blaine, to show him that it's his. I see the recognition of the words in his eyes as well, which soften slightly round the edges.

"Just the house Kurt," he finally says and automatically my hand rises to my chest as if it can calm my frantic heart, my body relaxes and all the breath I've been holding in rushes from my lungs. He smiles shyly at me before speaking again more quietly than ever before, "I never want you to leave my life again."

I smile back unsurely, feeling emotionally and physically drained. I glance around and find my shoes on the floor, dropping quickly I shove my feet in and lace them up before walking into the hall as he follows. I pat my pockets to check I have my phone and wallet, mentally checking whether I brought anything else. But I hadn't, I have no excuses to stay any longer, so reluctantly I lean my hand out towards the front door, my fingers only a few centimetres away, when I feel his touch.

Delicate. Careful and restrained, hands brushing against my back and around my waist, coming to rest bent upwards against my chest, one splaying against my beating heart as I feel him step forward, feet aligning next to mine, legs pressing into me, chest flush against my back. The entire lengths of our bodies press together, close enough for me to feel the beat of his heart against my spine, and I relax. I relax into his touch, pressing back further to feel him more and I sense more than hear his content sigh, before he lets go and steps back, looking down nervously at the floor.

"I'll erm… I'll ring you in a few days, yeah?" he asks, and I nod slowly, terrified of how long I'll have to wait, terrified of going days without hearing from him, terrified of waiting the rest of my life only to never hear his voice again. And then, because there's so much to be said and yet no way of saying it; I leave. Turning back momentarily when I reach the end of his drive I wave gently. He waves back, a sad smile gracing his perfect features, before I bury my hands in my pockets and begin walking.

I walk the whole five miles home, desperate to not be alone but knowing I will be for at least a few days. When I finally get home, I unlock the door, kick my shoes off unceremoniously and crawl into bed, fully dressed, and weep for what feels like an eternity.


	12. Chapter XII

**A/N: Please note date changes for this chapter, and remember that I love you for reading this far**

Friday June 10th 2011

**Blaine**

Dalton is _alive;_thrumming, beating, pulsating. Music pumping from huge speakers like blood flowing from a frantic heart, providing the essential oxygen of music to every room, like cells of a body. It fills the building with a rhythmic pounding, an inescapable drumming, vibrating relentlessly through your body, through your skin and muscles and tendons, shaking your very bones and pounding with the rhythm of your heart. On top of that is the talking, shouting, laughter. The unstoppable, undecipherable, unrelenting noise of the guests and Dalton students. An uncountable number of bodies are present, all pushed together, lining the walls, crushed onto the leather sofas, leant up and down the banister of the main staircase, filling the lobby beneath it. They've even started to filter outside, the front lawn filling with people enjoying the warm summer evening, basking in the dying light of the last day of term, the darkness of a summer night approaching.

That's where I am now, enjoying the sunset with my boyfriend curled at my side, both of us sat on the steps leading up to the grand doors of Dalton Academy. He has one arm curled underneath mine; the other grasping an empty bottle of wine between his slightly bony knees, head leant against my shoulder as we watch the sky turn from blue to golden orange. Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, the pinky purple afterglow fills the night sky like the precious jewels of a necklace. Kurt's eyes are closed, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he absentmindedly swings the wine bottle to and fro, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, slowly counting down the seconds and minutes I still have with him here at Dalton. On my other side, sat a couple of steps down is my sister, chatting happily with me.

When I'd first suggested she come to the party, she'd scoffed; _'I'm 20 Blaine, there's no way I'm going to my little brothers school party'__. _However she quickly changed her mind when I told her ex students often came back, some of them very good looking ex students. So she'd turned up, and promised to stay for a couple of hours, just in case there was any truth to my claim. Although she's currently arguing with me that she's yet to see one good looking guy of a reasonable age whom she can dance with.

"Why don't you go and have a look around instead of sitting here with us then?" I ask jokingly. She glares back in response, choosing to take a swig from the can in her hand instead of responding. Just at that moment Kurt's phone rings, loudly playing 'Teenage Dream' and vibrating in his pocket. It startles us all, but none more than Kurt himself who simultaneously jumps, bangs his head on my jaw, and drops his bottle with a resounding crack on the concrete steps. We all watch as it clinks its way down to the last step, landing intact on the soft grass at the bottom. He apologises with a quick kiss to my jaw, pulling the phone from his pocket and answering.

"Hello?" He slurs slightly as he tries to stifle a yawn, obviously having fallen half asleep where he'd been sat. "What do you mean?" he questions down the line, brow furrowing slightly. He glances at me and rolls his eyes before speaking again, "yeah, I'll come and find you, just don't move," he stands, one hand resting on my shoulder to steady himself, unintentionally preventing me from standing with him. "No, don't move. I'll find you, just… stay right where you are," he sighs heavily before hanging up, looking down at me and Sophie. "Finn's lost somewhere in the dorms, I need to go save him," he rolls his eyes again, although underneath his indignation I see the love for his step-brother and the slight hint of pride that it's Kurt he's rang.

"I'll come with you," I offer, making to stand with him.

"Don't bother. It'll take like, two minutes, he's most likely forgotten how a door handle works and can't get out," he laughs, bending down and pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back in no time," he promises, straightening up and walking away, disappearing behind the huge wooden doors which are slightly ajar. I watch his retreating figure, sighing unintentionally.

"What's up Blaine?" Sophie's voice breaks me from my reverie. I turn back to face her, only to be met by her concerned-older-sister face. I grin solemnly, surprised as usual by how well she knows me.

"I thought I was doing a pretty good job at hiding it," I say, referring to my less than happy mood.

"Not from me baby brother," she teases, smiling earnestly as she waits for my explanation. "Come on… What's bothering you?" she asks more directly as I internally curse myself for not being better at concealing my emotions.

I don't answer straight away, taking my time to swallow, dampen my lips, run my hand through my hair and avoid eye contact as much as possible. "It's Matt," I finally say, not looking at her, focusing on the sky and the few tiny yet bright pinpricks of stars beginning to appear.

She doesn't reply straight away, which spikes my curiosity. I turn to look at her, only to find her closely inspecting my expression. "What about him?" she finally asks slowly, her brows furrowed; in confusion or suspicion?

"He's supposed to be coming, or already here, although I haven't seen him, and Wes and David promised to text me if they see him around, and they haven't," I explain quickly, hoping she won't want any more explanation than that.

"Oh," she says slowly, elongating the one syllable as understanding sweeps over her. I nod sadly, once again averting my gaze to focus on the ever increasing darkness. "Does Kurt know?" she asks, causing me to grimace.

I hesitate before answering, unsure of what to say. "He knows _of_him," I respond, hoping that will be enough for her, but it isn't. She raises an eyebrow at me, silently asking me to explain further. "I've never told him the whole story," I admit finally with a defeated shake of my head.

"Why not?" she questions and I hear the confusion and slight concern in her voice.

"Why should I have?" I retaliate quickly, swinging my head to face her properly as indignation swells like a bubble in my chest. Anger creases my features as I wait for her reply.

"Because you love him?" she responds in a heartbeat, her expression mirroring mine in righteous anger, "because _he_loves _you_?" she speaks again, slower and with more emphasis. "Because you trust each other? Because he's your boyfriend? Because I've never seen someone make you as happy as he does?" with each question her eyebrows raise slightly, voice growing stronger.

A few seconds pass in awkward silence, both of us staring at each other but with very different expressions. Mine's angry, jaw tight, teeth grinding together, biting back cruel words, while hers has morphed into concern mingled with disbelief.

"Look Blaine," she finally says, placing her can on the ground at her feet as she shuffles close to me, taking my hand in hers. My body instantly relaxes under her touch as I feel waves of tension roll of my body. My shoulders relax, jaw untensing, eyes softening. She sighs, looking into my eyes, searching for the right words. Eventually she speaks, "I remember what you used to be like," she says simply. I frown, averting my gaze from her penetrating eyes while my hands subconsciously grasp tighter. "I remember when you'd come home from school, bruised and beaten, hardly able to hold yourself up because of what them bastards did to you!" I hear her breath catch as she speaks, turning I see tears glistening like diamonds in her eyes, eyes so surprisingly similar to my own that I could be looking in a mirror.

"D'you remember that Friday when you came home? I'd never seen you so bad, just before you transferred here?" she questions almost silently, and I nod silently back, unable to look away from her sad, pleading eyes. "For the entire weekend you just locked yourself in your room. I could hear you crying and you wouldn't let me in." I nod again, unable to speak as I feel tears welling in my eyes. But she continues, squeezing my hands so hard her shoulders shake, but her voice remains strong and unwavering, "you just locked yourself away from me; away from the world, and all I could do was listen as you cried yourself to sleep and threw up from the pain, and I couldn't do anything!" she shakes her head at me for emphasis, unshed tears swelling in her eyes. "God Blaine, all I wanted to do was hold you, and love you, and keep you safe, but you wouldn't let me! You wouldn't let anyone! Then on Monday you came out, you were black and blue all over, cradling your side and limping, but you still slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for school! I've never seen anything more heartbreaking in my life-"

I interrupt her then, not wanting to hear the rest of the story. I already know how it ends anyway, "what's your point Sophie?" I ask blankly, desperate to change the subject.

"My point is," she smiles sadly at me as she speaks, a lot slower and gentler, her grip loosening. "You were alone for so long, you were so sad and as much as I tried to push my way into your world there was no way I was breaking down the walls you'd build… but Kurt did," she says, her smile growing wider and warmer. "Some how he broke through your stubbornness, and your resoluteness, and your loneliness, and _god_… I've never seen you so happy!" I laugh lightly, looking away gently. "I'm serious Blaine! You're a completely different person. You're happy and always smiling and I haven't heard you laugh so much in years. It's like you've come back from the longest holiday and I finally have my baby brother back," she tells me joyfully. I hear her take a shuddering breath and turning back to face her I'm met by the biggest, most genuine smile I've ever seen.

"I'm sorry," I apologise simply, years too late.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. The point I'm trying to make is, don't risk the best thing that's ever happened to you, the person you love, your _happiness,_ for someone or something as stupid and silly and selfish as Matthew, okay? It's better you tell Kurt now, and he understand, than him find out through someone else, because then he'll just always wonder why you never told him yourself," she finishes her speech with a reassuring smile and final squeeze of my hand.

"You're right, of course," I tell her, grinning back, "you're always right," I add jokingly. She laughs back and pulls me down for a hug. I lean towards her willingly, slipping my arms with some difficulty around her waist because of the odd angle we're at. She rocks us gently together for the briefest second before pulling away with a proud smile.

"Glad I could offer you my wisdom," she nudges me playfully as she stands. I copy and stand beside her. "I think I'm going to go anyway," she tells me. I open my mouth to protest but she speaks too quickly, "don't try and argue, you know I'll win," she smiles, shrugging her jacket on. "And anyway, you've got some sucking up to Kurt to do, and you don't need me here for that," she grins mischievously, "when will you be home? Tomorrow?"

I nod a little sadly, momentarily having forgotten that this is my last night at Dalton before the summer; before returning home. She smiles as if she knows exactly what I'm thinking, "See you tomorrow Blainey," she teases playfully, punching me lightly on the shoulder before turning and meandering down the few steps towards the gate. "Don't forget my advice," she shouts happily over her shoulder as she slides her phone from her pocket. I smile as I watch her leave, disappearing into the night like smoke.

I sigh heavily, rubbing my hands over my face in a feeble attempt to remove the worry and pain which is no doubt written across it. I glance quickly at my watch and see 15 minutes have passed since Kurt left to find Finn, causing me to frown slightly. He should be back by now surely? The dorms aren't far away, and unless Finn is monumentally lost, which _is_ possible, he should definitely have found his way back to me.

Turning I walk into the lobby, pushing through the crowd towards the staircase as I scan the assembled bodies, searching for beautiful pale skin, an elegant walk, listening for his unmistakable voice. I don't hear or see him at all, but while scanning the crowd my eyes do catch on someone who towers far above almost everyone else; Finn.

"Finn!" I call, pushing slightly harder through the crowd towards him, eliciting a few groans and glares from other people. Finn turns at the sound of his name and searches the crowd as well, but he doesn't see me; I'm far too short to stand out. "Hey," I shout over the pounding music, grasping slightly at his elbow to pull him to the side, away from his friends. He smiles down at me and steps away willingly.

"Hey Blaine," he leans down and I smell alcohol on his breath, but before I have a chance to speak he's wrapping his gangly, strong arms around me and crushing me in a bear hug. "Great party man!" He exclaims directly into my ear as he lifts me right off my feet, squeezing tightly. I choke slightly at the tightness and squirm to be put back down. He takes the hint and drops me roughly before gulping hungrily from a can I hadn't noticed he's holding in his hand, a goofy grin curling his lips, eyes slightly glazed with drink.

"D'you know where Kurt is? He came to g-" I question, but before I finish speaking he's shouting over me.

"No man, sorry, no idea… after he saved me from the maze he disappeared in that direction," he points towards the kitchen, words slurring almost unnoticeably. "Said something about wine…" he shrugs his shoulders and takes another swig from his can, eyes leaving mine to roam around the room, no doubt checking for Kurt for me.

"Okay, thanks Finn… enjoy the party," he smiles dopily and nods, turning back towards the small group of people he'd originally been chatting with as I begin walking towards the kitchen. A thought suddenly rushes through my mind and I shout back to him, "Finn!" He turns again, taking a couple of seconds to find me in the crowd. "Are you…" I inwardly laugh at how much of a parent I sound, "you're not driving home are you?" I shout slightly louder to make sure he hears.

He smiles a little and shakes his head, "Rachel's driving," he says simply, and I smile and nod back, slightly relieved. It's reasonably early in the night and if he carries on at the same rate there is no way he should be driving, but I'm pretty sure Rachel won't drink and drive, so I allow my mind to rest as I eagerly make my way towards the kitchen and hopefully towards Kurt.

**Kurt**

"Just try and stay with other people from now on Finn, okay?" I ask annoyed, but only slightly. It had been quite hilarious to find him wandering the dorms aimlessly looking for a way out. He nods at me with a wry smile before spotting Rachel and hurrying towards her, lacing his arm around her delicate waist and smiling lopsidedly down at her. She smiles up at him gently, inching closer into the space under his arm. I can't help but smile slightly myself at their intimacy, Finn and Rachel are polar opposites in so many ways, so are obviously drawn to each other like magnets.

"Hey Kurt," I turn and smile at David stood in front of me, holding a few bottles of beer in his hand, "want one?" he asks, seeing where my gaze has wandered. I frown and crinkle my nose in disgust.

"No thanks, I'm more of a wine guy," I slur slightly, the bottle I drank earlier evidently still affecting me.

He laughs lightly, "there's some still in the fridge I think," he smiles encouragingly at me and I nod back, already knowing this. When neither of us speaks I take it as my cue to leave, so I step past him and begin to walk away. "Kurt?" he says suddenly as I feel his warm hand grasp the bare skin of my elbow. I turn to face him and am surprised to see him frowning slightly, eyes downcast.

"What's up David?" I ask concerned, moving to stand directly in front of him.

"Look Kurt, I'm not really the emotional type, but I just want to say, I'm really going to miss having you around," he says hurriedly, words jumbling together slightly as he stares at his shoes. And I don't know whether it's the alcohol pumping in my veins or the sad look in his eyes but before I have a chance to consider my actions I step forward and hug him tightly. He shuffles a little closer and wraps his arms around my shoulders equally tightly. We stand silently for a moment, before he squeezes me one last time and releases me, both of us stepping back and smiling sadly.

"I'm going to miss you too. I'll miss all you guys!" I say truthfully. "But I'll see you over the summer hopefully, and next year I'll always be here with Blaine, you're not getting rid of me that easily!" I joke. He smiles again and nods as he laughs, knowing only too well how difficult it is to separate Blaine and I. He tells me he's heading to find Jeff, and that he'll see me later. I agree, wished him a good night before turning and heading towards the kitchen.

I have to physically push and shove my way through the huge collection of people squashed into the room. Most of them moving and dancing to the music which still blares incessantly from the gigantic speakers set up around the room. The whole crowd moves as if it's one huge entity, swaying and bending to the beat of the music as if all connected by a hundred strings to one master puppeteer.

I finally reach the kitchen and hurry in, relieved to be free of the heat and pressure of so many bodies pressed against me. But before I can fully enjoy the freedom someone crashes into me. I gasp and stumble back with the force of the hit, and for the briefest second I feel the earth move beneath me; I'm falling, the ceiling swimming momentarily into view before suddenly a strong, gentle hand grasps my arm and pulls me back upright. I stumble again with the power of the pull and fall flush against the stranger's chest as their other arm wraps slightly around my waist, steadying me as I regain my footing. We stay like this for a second as I steady my breathing, my arms clamped between our bodies, hands pressed against his chest, holding his thin shirt slightly. He doesn't move his hands, leaving one holding my left bicep firmly while the others curled around my waist. He begins to laugh, shaking my body with his. I shuffle slightly, and with the movement he drops his hands, allowing me to step back.

"Sorry about that," he says apologetically with a small smile. His eyes are sparkling and I can't look away. I stare shamelessly for a second as I try to comprehend how startlingly grey they are; bright and shining in the fluorescent light of the kitchen. It's almost impossible to see where the iris end and the sclera begins they're so light, pupils as small as pinpricks due to the bright light.

"S'okay," I assure him, finally averting my gaze. "Thanks for erm, catching me, I guess," I add as an afterthought.

"No problem," he assures me, "were you looking for someone? You seem in a bit of a rush," he says confidently, and I hear the smile in his voice as he tries to lighten the mood.

"Just for wine," I say with a shrug, still unwilling to look into his astonishingly bright eyes, instead glancing towards the fridge.

"Oh… let me," he says happily, not seeming at all surprised by my very obvious avoidance of his eyes. He walks towards the fridge, and I follow, not having any other option. I hear the noise of the fridge door opening and move to lean on the counter facing it, glancing in the door to see what's inside. "White or Rosé?" he asks, turning to look at me, and once again I'm hit with the full force of those shocking eyes, my eyebrows rise in surprise as my jaw drops slightly. "Or there's Red over there," he nods behind me towards the counter.

"Rosé," I cough a little. He smiles coyly before dipping his hand into the fridge and pulling a bottle out, turning to face me.

"D'you want a glass or…" he trails off as I shake my head and take the bottle from him. It's a screw top, for which I'm grateful as I hurriedly removed the lid and lift it to my lips. I watch as his expressive eyes dart from my own and down to my lips as they close over the top, I tilt it back, eyes closing in relief as the cool liquid reaches my dry throat. I drink slowly and languorously, revelling in the fact I can feel his eyes on my lips and the gradual bob of my Adams apple with each slow gulp. Removing the bottle from my lips I gasp, filling my lungs with air and opening my eyes lazily as I heavily exhale, considerably more relaxed. I blink up at his shocked expression a few times before a huge smirk curls his lips.

"Better?" he asks with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

I nod as I take in more of his appearance. He's about the same height as me, but considerably broader, huge, muscled shoulders like a football player; as my eyes roam over them I remember the feel of his body pressed against mine, the unmistakable firmness of his chest beneath my hands, his strong grip on my arm and waist and I struggle to repress a shudder. He's strikingly handsome in an _'oh god, how is he real?'_ sort of way. His hair's frighteningly blonde, verging on white and I can't help but wonder whether he might be slightly albino, his skin's equally white, milky almost, paler than my own which is saying something, but his _eyes_! I'm struggling to look away again, an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch my fingertips to his eyelids rolls through my body but I repress it, instead biting my lip, but this time I don't avert my gaze. I'm beginning to feel a lot more relaxed as the alcohol makes its way into my blood stream.

"I'm Matt," He says confidently, holding his hand out. Something in the back of my mind jolts as I vaguely remember someone mentioning a Matthew to me in the past, but I can't remember straight away, and what does it matter anyway?


	13. Chapter XIII

Friday June 10th2011 (Continued)

**Kurt**

I glance down at his outstretched hand for a second. I can see beneath his translucent skin the thick tracks of blue veins winding right up to the crook of his elbow. I look back into his eyes. He's smiling, so I smile back. "Kurt," I tell him, sliding my hand into his. His skin is shockingly soft, like stroking cashmere, and startlingly cold, a huge contrast from the calloused yet warm hands I'm used to.

"Nice to meet you Kurt," he says charmingly as he raises my hand and presses a feather light kiss to my knuckle. I can't repress the giggle that works its way through my lips, but he just smiles in response before dropping my hand, his fingertips grazing slowly across my wrist and palm, a jolt of electricity shooting through my body at his touch. "I don't remember you from when I came here, you're new?" he asks with genuine interest, his brow furrowing slightly with the thought.

"Oh, yeah, I transferred midway through the year," I tell him truthfully. He nods before speaking again.

"So what year are you in?"

"I'll be a senior next year," I tell him with a hint of pride. He grins even wider at that knowledge and moves an inch closer. I'm leaning sideways against the kitchen island facing him, one arm resting lazily atop the counter, wine bottle an inch away. He moves to stand closer, resting his own arm on the island alongside mine. I feel the smallest touch as he grazes the skin of my inner elbow with his thumb, before following the winding path of my own veins right down my forearm to my wrist and back up again, sending a shiver down my spine, tingling the hairs on the back of my neck, skin goose pimpling at his touch. I follow the track with my eyes as he repeats it, and slowly my eyes trail up his arm, his shoulder, the curve of his long neck, strong jaw, high cheek bones before finding his eyes; his pupils are suddenly huge, great black holes surrounded by a slither of grey and then white. His lips are slightly parted and only a foot from my own, I can almost taste him. We stand like that for an immeasurable amount of time, arms linked, skin tingling with the touch, eyes locked as a strange silence engulfed us. In the distance I still hear the music, I can still hear the laughter and talking of the people in and outside the kitchen, but more so than that I can hear my own heartbeat and his breathing, oddly synchronised.

"Kurt!" a voice shouts, the familiarity of which hits me like a tonne of bricks. I jump away from Matt, hand dropping from the counter as I turn to face Blaine. He looks _livid_. His lips are pulled back in a scowl, eyes narrowed; hands balled into fists, entire frame appearing to shake slightly. And for a second I'm scared, why is he angry at me? But then I realise his eyes are focused on Matt, who himself looks shocked. He glances at me and suddenly realisation dawns in his eyes and a wave of triumph washes over his face.

Blaine moves towards us quickly, not once taking his eyes off Matt as he steps round the island, finally stopping at my side, a couple of inches in front of me as he pushes himself up to his full height. His chest balloons and his hands are still balled into fists, his jaw tightening noticeably.

"Long time, no see Blaine," Matt says calmly, not at all bothered by Blaine's less than polite behaviour. In fact, he looks rather amused by it, pink lips pulling up in a cocky smirk as his grey eyes drop from Blaine's and trail the length of his body, eyebrows arching, tongue darting from his lips to dampen them.

"Why are you even here?" Blaine asks, shuffling slightly further in front of me, one hand darting out to grasp my own tightly. I hold back, but only loosely, which doesn't go unnoticed by Blaine who swings his head back to look at me quickly, eyes narrowing for the briefest second.

"Actually, I was hoping I'd bump into _you_ Blaine," Matt says, cocking his head to the side slightly and widening his eyes. Blaine freezes. I feel every muscle in his body tense; I watch as his jaw tightens further, hand beginning to shake in my own. "But I found Kurt instead," he adds slowly, eyes sliding back to look at me. I gulp, averting my gaze from his and instead looking down at my hand which is trapped in Blaine's and actually starting to throb under his vice like grip.

"Blaine you're- you're hurting me," I say quietly, shaking my hand in his to try and loosen his grip.

"What? Oh, sorry," he says, looking down at my bloodless hand and relaxing his grip, but not letting go. Matt watches with a look of interest at our exchange, eyes darting hungrily between me and Blaine.

"You certainly have a _type,_don't you Blaine," He finally says, increasing my confusion and causing Blaine to literally growl deep in his throat, lips pulling back over his teeth as he steps completely in front of me.

"Fuck off Matt!" he practically spits, causing me to gasp because I've hardly ever heard Blaine swear, especially not to someone who hasn't warranted it. He glares at Matt one last time before swivelling to face me, beginning to push me towards the door easily. "Kurt, can you please _walk?_" he questions angrily as I slowly stumble backwards, confusion no doubt plastered across my face.

"M-my wine," I manage to stutter feebly. He looks up at me, eyes narrowing slightly again before he sighs and turns, striding back to where Matt's still stood. He glares at him again before grabbing my wine bottle and pivoting round, walking towards me.

"Happy?" he asks sarcastically as he thrusts it into my hand before placing his hands firmly on my hips, edging me towards the door into the huge crowd of people. I glance back one last time, eyes falling instantly on Matt. He hasn't moved, arm still resting on the counter where it'd been stroking my own, startling eyes still trained on me, a smug grin pulling his lips up at the side. I can't take my eyes off him, and as Blaine slowly pushes me into the crowd; Matt winks at me, and then he's gone. Out of view behind the swell of people I've somehow found myself amongst, Blaine's body flush against mine as he continues to hurry me as far away from the kitchen, as fast as possible.

"Blaine, can you just- will you please just- _stop fucking pushing me!_" I finally yell, my hands forcing their way between our bodies as I push him back, away from me. He stumbles slightly and looks up at me hurt, hands still slightly raised from where they'd rested against my hips. I shake my head at him before turning and storming away, easily forcing my way through the crowd until I reach the edge of the room. Blaine follows, stopping in front of me and looking up at me through pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry Kurt, I just- I'm just sorry okay," he says with a sad smile, extending one hand to hold my free one. I let him, but once again only holding back loosely. He raises his free hand to rub tiredly at his temple before pulling his phone from his pocket t, ping out a quick text with one hand. I ignore it, unable to read it from this angle and not caring enough to bother anyway.

"What was all that about!" I question angrily, motioning in the direction of the kitchen, indignation bubbling in the pit of my stomach as realisation sets in. He's just completely humiliated me in front of a room full of people. I'm not going to let this slide without explanation.

"He was all over you!" he replies, equally angrily as he slides his phone back into his pocket. I pull my hand away, forcing him to release his grip. He frowns sadly and takes a step towards me. I respond by taking a step away, which only angers him more. "That was _Matthew_," he says resentfully, as if that's explanation enough. I shake my head, raising my hands as I shrug, showing him my lack of understanding. "_My ex!_" he growls.

"So?" I question, because he really isn't making any sense. "So he's your ex? So what! That doesn't give you permission to be a complete dick to him, and even more so than that, it doesn't give you permission to push me around like I'm your fucking play thing!" I'm shouting now, but no one seems to be paying us much attention over the noise of the party, for which I'm grateful.

Blaine opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't. He just looks at me, confused and angry and a little hurt at what I've just said. He stands for a minute just staring at me, mouth opening and closing with unsaid words, before he takes a shaking breath and speaks, "Kurt you don't understand." His voice is calm and quiet as he reaches towards me again, but I flinch away again. "Will you please just let me touch you!" he suddenly yells, reaching out quickly and grasping my hand tightly in his. I squirm, pulling away from him but he's too strong, he steps towards me and I can't get away as his other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me towards him. Without thinking I drop the wine bottle from my free hand and try to force him off of me.

I'm so furious. I can't remember ever being so furious in my life. It's one thing for people to push me around at school, but for my _boyfriend_to push me around is another thing entirely. I can feel my heart pounding angrily in my chest, adrenaline and alcohol rushing through my body as my teeth grind together. "Let. Go of me!" I speak slowly through clenched teeth, punctuating each syllable with an angry flash of my eyes as I stop squirming and push myself up, a few inches above him. I glare down at him, my chest heaving between us as he holds firmly to me, pleading with me to calm down.

"Kurt, will you please just calm down?" He begs, trying his hardest to restrain me, "I'll explain if you could jus-"

"No! I will not calm-fucking-down! Will you _get off of me!_" I screech, managing to loosen one arm enough to force it between us. I push against his chest with all my strength, but he's just too strong as he pushes back, his arms locking around me like a trap. I watch furiously as he open his mouth to speak again, and I can practically feel my blood boiling in rage, and before he's able to speak, before my mind is even able to comprehend what I'm doing, I lift my free hand, ball it into a fist and swing for him.

My fist collides painfully with his face, causing him to stumble, his grip around me finally releasing. I step back from him, one hand rising in shock to cover my mouth. He straightens up, standing a few feet away from me, a hand instinctively coming up to cup his cheek and nose. A single trickle of blood drips from his nose, before building momentum as it begins to gush. I see tears begin to gleam in his eyes and I know they're not from the physical pain, but the emotional.

We stand staring at each other for a second; lost. I step away from him again instinctively, my head shaking as I feel tears well in my own eyes. But they're tears of rage. We look at each other one final time, him stepping towards me again as blood falls into his hand, staining his navy shirt black, one arm stretching towards me. An apology lingers on the tip of my tongue, but it tastes bitter; fake. Because I'm not really sorry. I turn quickly and disappear into the crowd, forcing my way through as I try to put as much distance between us as possible.

An endless amount of time later I find myself alone in my dorm, curled into a foetal position on my bed, clothes crumpled and shoes unceremoniously kicked off. I've managed to stop crying and shaking, and am instead just lying in silence, the pounding bass of the music still reaching me. I wonder where Blaine is, who he's with. I wonder who he's told about what's happened. I wonder why he hasn't come after me yet, whether he ever will.

And just as that final thought races through my mind there is a gentle knock at the door. I can't resist a small smile curling my lips. He'll come in and apologise, and I'll apologise, and I'll kiss his nose better and we'll laugh about it, and spend our final night at Dalton alone but together and happy and in love. "Come in," I yell as loud as I can manage, my throat rough from crying. My back is to the door, but I hear as it clicks open, I hear shuffling as his feet step onto the carpet, and then the click as the door close. But he doesn't come any closer.

"Kurt?" a voice questions, and it definitely isn't Blaine's. I jump slightly at the unexpected voice and roll over to look who it is. It's Matt. He's stood by the door looking hesitant.

"Oh, hey," I say pushing myself up; I shuffle towards the end of the bed, sitting up properly. I rub my eyes tiredly, still stinging slightly from crying and I wonder how red they are as I look up at him. He smiles a little sadly.

"I saw you run up here, I hope you don't mind that I followed," I shake my head; shocked to realise I must've only been up here a few minutes. "May I?" he asks, motioning towards the bed. I nod and shuffle over so he can sit down. We sit in silence for a little while, him looking at me while I stare at the carpet. "You okay?" he finally asks, I laugh lightly and nod, looking up at him for the first time since he's sat next to me, and once again I'm astounded by the brightness of his eyes.

"I've been better, but yeah, I'll be fine," I tell him truthfully, he responds with a smile. We stare at each other for a second, his eyes occasionally darting down to my lips, a look of desire burning in his eyes.

"Would it be completely inappropriate of me to tell you how beautiful you are?" he questions in a hurry, eyes blazing with want as he licks his lips again. I'm stunned, yes it is completely inappropriate, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear it. "Because you are," he adds after a moment's pause. I watch dumbstruck as he raises one hand, slowly and gently pressing it flush against my cheek. He holds me there for a moment, our lips inches apart, me wanting nothing more than for him to close the gap. I feel his hot breath tickle my lips and we're literally a centimetre apart by now, "_so_ beautiful," he whispers before his lips close against mine. My heart jumps at the touch, pulse increasing.

I've only ever been _really_kissed by one guy, and I'm shocked by how different kissing Matt is. My body intuitively moves closer, our knees knocking as his other hand trails down my arm, dropping at my elbow to hold firmly against my waist. My own arms rise and wrap firmly around his neck, forcing him closer to me, deepening the kiss. He groans into my mouth as his hand on my waist tightens, pushing me sideways, forcing us onto the bed. We roll together until we're both on our sides and I shuffle closer, chests pressing flush against each other as he once again groan into my mouth. I smile in response and feel his hand trail downwards to my hip. Holding me still as he presses his hips against mine, I gasp as I feel his semi hard-on rub against my thigh, and before I know what's happening his hand has darted up my shirt, cold and shiver inducing as it trails across my chest and abdomen.

Our lips part and I gasp for air as he rolls me over onto my back, lips coming down to bite and caress my neck and jaw as his thigh force it's way between mine. Suddenly the pace changes, his hands become hungry as they tug at my shirt, he un-buttons it skilfully with one hand as the other steadies his weight above me. I gasp again when he rips it off and slings it to the side. Wet lips hungrily pressing against my bare skin as cold hands trace my sides. "Do you want me Kurt?" he suddenly growls into my ear. I shudder beneath him, eyes rolling back in my head as his hand cups me roughly through my jeans. "Do you?" he asks forcefully, warm breath tickling my neck; he bites my earlobe hard when I don't respond.

"Yes!" I gasp, simultaneously arcing away from the pain but towards him, desperate for friction and his cold hands and his wet lips and _him._

"I knew you would, you little whore," he snarls into my ear, and I know those words should turn me off, I know they should slap some sense into me, should remind me that I do in fact have a boyfriend, but they don't. Instead I feel myself harden further as I involuntarily buck my hips towards him and a moan escapes my lips. He smiles down smugly as his hand trails over my stomach, resting on my belt buckle. He undoes it with ease and with one hand manages to pull my jeans down to my thighs. He kisses me again; tongue forcing its way into my mouth, sucking on my bottom lip, he bites down hard and I arc again in pain, pushing myself harder against him, causing him to groan as my now bare thigh rubs against his erection.

I manage to get some control of my body back as I grab at his t-shirt, forcing it over his head before pulling his bare chest down onto mine, digging my nails into the strong muscles of his back as he grinds down against me, eliciting a loud moan from both of us. Then suddenly a cold hand is on my chest, tracing a quick pattern down my sternum as he ducks his head and his mouth closes around one nipple. I groan in desire, and then his hand trails all the way down my stomach, to my hips, darting under the hem of my boxers and grasping my cock. I practically scream at the coldness and the sensation and his body forcing me further into the bed. "Do you want me to fuck you Kurt?" he growls against my nipple, tongue darting out. When I don't respond straight away the hand on my cock tightens considerably and my toes curl in pain and pleasure.

"Yes- yes I do," I manage to stutter through a moan.

"Good," he says quietly as his mouth leaves my chest, trailing a wet path back up to my lips, but he doesn't kiss me. Instead he hovers over me, the hand on my cock beginning to move as my own fumbles with his zipper. "Do you beg like this for Blaine?" he asks, the question falling between my lips like a secret, halting my frantic movement. I look up at him, his pupils are blown wide with lust, mouth pulled into a smirk, and I know I should push him away, stop him, do anything to get away, but I don't. Instead I nod, which only widens his grin. "Did he take your virginity?" he questions again, and again I nod, unsure of what's happening. "Did you take his?" He finally ask, and I know this is the question he really wants the answer to, and I'm scared. "Did you?" he asks harder, hand dropping from my cock to squeeze my balls, causing every muscle in my body to tense.

"Yes- yes I did!" I gasp. He releases me, causing me to shudder in pleasure and relief, my body slumping back into the bed as his hand resumes stroking my throbbing erection.

"You took what I wanted Kurt," he growls menacingly in my ear, causing me to shudder again, this time in a mixture of pleasure and fear. "So, in exchange, I'm going to take _you_, from Blaine," he smiles cruelly at me, and in that moment I don't understand what he means, all I cam understand is that if he doesn't fuck me soon I'm probably going to combust. "Okay?" he asks and I nod quickly, pushing his trousers down his thighs. "Good," he practically coos in my ear as he leans up to remove my trousers and boxers completely as well as his own. He smiles hungrily as he lowers himself onto me, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.


	14. Chapter XIV

**A/N: In regards to what Kurt did, I have said, and all ways will say for this story; sometimes even the best of people make the worst decisions. So, try and see it from his point of view, and although not justified in any way, hopefully you'll understand how an angry, emotional, somewhat naïve 17 year old could've made that mistake.**

**Please note date changes :)**

Thursday June 20th 2019

**Kurt**

I haven't heard from Blaine since last Saturday, and I'm starting to worry. Before this argument we text each other everyday, even if it was just a few short, quick messages about some inane event in our lives, some funny thing Ava had said, a new scarf I'd bought, but even so we'd still been in constant contact. And as sad and as desperate and as insane as this makes me sound; I miss talking to him every day.

So I text him; I figure, why can't I take the first step and remind him that I'm still alive? It's a cowardly text, one he will _have_to respond to. _'Hey, I hope you're okay… I was just wondering whether I should still come round tomorrow for dinner? I don't mind either way, I just thought I should ask :) xx'._My fingers shake as I type it out, and it takes a solid 40 minutes before I dare to press send, but eventually I do. Afterwards I promptly lock my phone in my desk and leave my office to do some work which doesn't involve my phone, being at my desk, or being within 20 feet of my office.

I manage to stay away for two hours, which I think must be some kind of record. But eventually I can't put it off any longer, so it's with slightly shaking hands that I unlock my office door and sit down. What will I do if he never wants to see me again? Hadn't he said he never wants me to leave his life again? So it's with that small sentence repeating like a broken record in my head that I pick up the phone from the drawer, and with one last breath I press the 'Home' button, and for that briefest second before the screen lights up I can feel my pulse in my fingertips where they grasp the phone.

There's no reply. I've been so terrified of what he _will_say, that I haven't even considered him saying nothing at all. _Shit._Now what am I supposed to do? My frustration begins to build. I've tried my best to repress it over the last few days, but this is the tipping point. Does he no longer have the common courtesy to respond to a text? I practically growl at my phone as I drop it onto the desk in anger before flipping open my laptop and turning it on. But behind the frustration is sadness and regret, _this day could not be over quick enough,_I think as I quickly type in my password and wait for the screen to load. When it eventually does I can't help but smile at the picture from Mother's Day I've set as my background; Ava and Blaine's grinning faces filling my screen, _he's worth waiting for,_I think, smiling sadly back at them as my mind quickly corrects itself, _they're worth waiting for._

The rest of the day passes as I'd've expected; ruthlessly slowly. So it's many lifetimes later that I'm letting myself in home, kicking my shoes off in the hall and wandering aimlessly into my bedroom. I drop my bag on the floor beside my bed before grabbing a loose grey t-shirt to sleep in and a clean pair of boxers. I head over the hall into the bathroom, flicking on the shower. I quickly strip and step under the burning heat of the water, instantly feeling my shoulders relax under the searing heat, my muscles untensing, I can practically feel my blood pressure lowering.

I take my time, promising myself I won't rush for once in my life and just enjoy a shower. I lather up my hair with sweet smelling shampoo, followed by equally sweet conditioner, left on while I scrub my body, taking particular care to make sure I get all the pen off my hands. The smell of the conditioner and shower gel mingles in the thick fog of water particles, condensating on every surface. I stand for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of the water. It really is too hot, but that just makes it nicer, each individual droplet burning me. I fight back the feel of my nerves protesting, telling me desperately to get out of the hot water, because for the first time in ages I feel alive. I feel refreshed and cleansed. I unhurriedly rinse the conditioner from my hair before stepping out. I wrap my towel around my waist before wiping my hand across the mirror, clearing the fog enough to take in my face as I contemplate whether to shave tonight or tomorrow morning.

I decide on tomorrow morning as my stomach makes a loud grumbling noise. Quickly I dry off and throw on my clothes, running my hands through my hair a few times to straighten it back before stepping out into the considerably colder hallway. As I pull the door open the thick fog from the bathroom sweeps out before me, quickly disappearing into the cold air. Just as I turn and angle my body towards the living room, I hear a knock on the front door. Frowning I turn slowly to face the door in question as confusion sweeps through me. I _never_ have visitors. Especially not unarranged visitors, on a Thursday, at almost seven o'clock. _Should I answer it?_ I question myself. _Well, why not?_ The curiosity will eat away at me for days if I don't, so I swiftly turn and take the two strides towards the door.

I reach out and place my hand on the door knob as my mind furiously races to work out who it could be. But there is only one way to find out, so with a confused frown still wrinkling my forehead, and as my spare hand rises to run through my hair, I turn the handle, and crack the door open an inch as I peer out at my visitor.

I'm greeted by solemn looking hazel eyes, and unruly dark hair. "Blaine!" I half screech in both shock and confusion. Instantly I swing the door wide open to see him properly, and it's only then that I notice Ava stood beside him, still in her school uniform.

"Hey Kurty," She says with a little wave, an angelic smile gracing her sweet, little face.

"H-hey sweetie," I stutter in response, waving back slowly. Suddenly I feel extremely exposed. My bare legs have goose pimpled in the cool air of the summer night, the thin fabric of my shirt clinging to my still slightly damp body as I feel droplets of water fall from my hair, damping my shirt even more. My eyes leave Ava's and instead focus on Blaine as I subconsciously wrap an arm around my waist, my other hand still holding the door open.

He sees my head move and darts his eyes up to meet mine, but I don't miss the way they linger a little too long on my thighs and crotch, I don't miss the way they sweep hungrily up my torso or how they widen slightly at the sight of my exposed collarbones and shoulder where my shirt has fallen unevenly. Instinctively I tug the shirt up to cover myself, coughing lightly to clear my throat as I force myself to not look away. "Do you want to come in?" I ask after a moment's hesitation.

He nods slowly, before clearing his own throat and speaking, "if we're not disturbing you?"

I laugh nervously, "you're not disturbing me, make yourself at home," I assure them as I step to the side. Ava dashes past me, heading straight towards the living room.

"Ava!" Blaine calls after her as he steps over the threshold himself. I close the door gently as she turns expectantly to face him. "Shoes," he says, to which she dramatically rolls her eyes before slipping her black, patent school shoes off and continuing further into my home. I can't help but smile at her exuberance and his attempts to teach her manners.

"You don't have to take your shoes off," I assure him, despite him already having slipped them off and arranged them neatly beside the wall. His socks are bright red, eye catching against the variety of neutral colours which decorate my home; he has always been the most colourful part of my life. We smile nervously at each other before I speak, "I'm urm, going to er, go change. But, just y'know, help yourself to a drink and err, make yourself at home," I repeat myself, unable to think of anything else to say.

"M'kay," he says slowly as his eyes roam around my hallway. It's then that I realise he's never actually been to my house, and when I really think about it, I can't remember ever having told him my address.

"Blaine?" I say, his head darts around to face me instantly. "How'd you know my address?" I question, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Senders address on that parcel you sent for Ava," he states, as if it's that obvious. I make a small _'oh'_ sound in response and nod a little. The silence starts to get awkward, but we're thankfully saved by Ava shouting from the other room.

"Kurty, your TV is being silly," Blaine and I exchange a knowing smile before I lead the way into the living room. Bright sunlight shines into the room through the large windows at the end, illuminating it with a golden glow and highlighting the tiny specks of dust floating in the air. The walls are a light grey colour and the exposed floorboards are stained dark.

As I walk I become extremely aware of how tight my boxers are, and how my t-shirt doesn't cover my ass at all. I wonder whether Blaine's looking. I wonder whether I _want_Blaine to look. I find Ava sat on my sofa, her tiny legs crossed underneath her, remote in hand as she pushes every single button one after another.

I lean over her and pick up the correct remote, switching the TV on before quickly finding a children's channel. She grins up at me in thanks as she snuggles further into the couch, head falling tiredly against the arm rest with a content sigh. I turn back around and find Blaine scanning the few photographs which lean against the wall above my low bookcase. I decide to take this opportunity to change, so I silently slip past him and out of the room, darting into my bedroom and noiselessly closing the door behind me.

I get changed quickly, not wanting to waste any time. I decide on some dark slightly skinny jeans, not wanting to have to struggle for ten minutes to get them on, paired with a navy blue button up. I quickly dash to my mirror and grimace at my hair, still dripping from the shower, but I don't have time to blow dry it. Instead I comb it quickly, and style it so that when it dries it won't be a complete disaster. Lastly I smudge some moisturiser onto my face and massage it in as I make my way towards the door.

Walking back into the room I notice Blaine's still stood exactly where I left him, a thick frame in hand. I walk up beside him and lean over to look at the picture. It's of Finn and Rachel, taken a few years ago in a beautifully maintained Rose garden. Finn's wearing a black tux which I'd picked out for him, a pale pink rose pressed into the button hole, while Rachel stands beside him in an elegant white, silk dress, falling beautifully over her small frame and flowing behind her magnificently. They're angled towards each other, his arm lacing around her waist while hers presses against his chest, the other loosely grasping a bouquet of matching pink and white roses. There's a sparkle in each of their eyes and a jubilant smile gracing both their faces. The pose is natural, unplanned, captured in the most perfect moment.

"They made it through college then," is all he says. It's an affirmation, not a question, as his eyes continue to take in every detail of the picture. I nod silently beside him, knowing he'll see the movement of my head out of the corner of his eye. With a small, almost imperceptible sigh he places the frame back where it belongs and turns to face me. I can see a trace of regret in his eyes, mingled with sadness. I wait in silence for him to speak, and just as he opens his mouth, his lips beginning to form words, my stomach grumbles again; embarrassingly loudly, causing both of our eyes to dart down to look at it questioningly. Then I hear his soft laughter, and I begin to laugh myself.

"Sorry," I manage between smiles, but he just shakes his head and smiles back before speaking.

"Have you not eaten yet?" I shake my head in response, and just as I open my mouth to protest that I'm fine, he speaks. "I'm so sorry, I should have called, or something, to ask if it was okay to come over, I'm sorry Kurt, I-" I know what he's going to say, and quickly interrupt.

"It's fine!" I assure him firmly, "seriously, I'm fine. I just-" I falter, unsure of what I want to say and how exactly to word it. "It's just nice to see you," I finally say with a slight aversion of my eyes and a no doubt noticeable gulp. He nods in agreement, "would you find it awfully rude if I got something to eat while you're here though?" I ask, because I really am hungry and even more so than that I'm desperate for a distraction, desperate for an excuse to not have to look into his eyes, for something to occupy my hands so as to prevent myself from reaching out and touching him, pulling him towards me.

He smiles in response and shakes his head, "of course not, we can go if you want…" he trails off lamely as I fervently shake my head, smiling faintly as I turn and wander into the kitchen area. It's sleek and modern, white cupboards reaching from floor to ceiling completely along the back wall while a stretch of grey countertop housing my sink and hob stand opposite, separating it from the living space. I decide on just a snack, something to tide me over and stop my stomach grumbling.

I busy myself in the fridge, removing things from the fridge. "You want something?" I ask, seeing his eyes follow my hands as I butter bread. He shakes his head, flicking his eyes back up to meet mine. I ask Ava as well, but she declines, saying she's already eaten too much spaghetti bolognese and that she might explode at any moment. I laughed because of how serious she sounds. "So, what brings you here anyway? Not that I'm complaining," I hurry to assure him as I nudge a drawer shut with my hip and purposely avoid eye contact.

I hear him clear his throat, that noise alone enough to make my heart rate increase, because there's no way he's just decided to pop over for a friendly visit. There's definitely a reason, and I'm about to find it out. "I erm, I wanted to talk to you Kurt, about, erm, that night. If- if you're willing to, I mean, I just… I feel like… like I deserve to know… y'know?" He speaks quickly yet falteringly, words bunching together awkwardly and falling messily from his lips.

Suddenly I have no appetite, instead a whirring sensation has taken over my stomach and I struggle to hold myself up; my heart rate having increased as he spoke, so much so that I can hear the faint humming in my ear and the frantic pulsing in my fingertips. I turn slowly to face him, leaning back against the counter for support as I nod slowly, building up enough courage to speak. "Okay, I mean, yes, of course you erm, deserve to know, I- yeah… okay," I manage to stammer.

He nods again before running a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes leaving mine to fall to the ground. Silence overwhelms us for an immeasurable amount of time as he no doubt tried to decide where to start and I focus all my energy on staying standing and not bolting from my own home.

Eventually he speaks, faint voice falling into our bubble of silence like a stone breaking the surface of a lake. "Why?" His voice is a whisper, barely audible, yet that one word ripples through me, tugging at my heart strings and making vomit rise in the back of my throat. I'm lightheaded for a moment as my vision focuses and unfocuses, the image of him swimming in front of me. "Kurt, are you okay?" I hear his voice through a wall of white noise, and then I feel his hands grip each of my elbows firmly as he holds me upright. I allow myself to sag slightly; forcing him to take most my weight as my hands instinctively cling to him for support. I'm vaguely aware of being moved, I feel a hard surface beneath me, his warm hands still clamped around my forearms as I gratefully slump my arms and upper body onto the cool table in front of me. I revel in the cool plastic pressing against my sweaty brow.

"M'sorry," I manage to mumble into the tabletop as the mini-migraine subsides.

"What was that? Are you okay?" he asks frantically. I'm faintly aware of his hands leaving my arms and the noise of a chair scraping along wood, I feel him sit down beside me, so close his entire side presses against mine, followed by a soothing hand rubbing circles on my back. I flicker my eyes open and am shocked to see so much worry etched into his features.

"Jus' a migraine," I hum exhaustedly as I push myself into an upright position.

"Are you sure? Do you need anything, what can I get you?" He's still anxious, voice loud and piercing as my head throbs.

"Food please," I manage with a smile, which seems to calm him slightly. He smiles back half heartedly before standing and moving to finish my half made sandwich. A minute later he places it in front of me along with a large glass of water. I thank him and gulp it down, wondering how long he searched for a glass in my maze of cupboards. He sits back down in the seat next to me, knocking our knees together as his thigh presses against mine. "So…" I begin, because although I'm terrified of having this conversation I know after what's just happened he won't try and initiate it again, "you asked why…" I reiterate before taking a big bite of sandwich.

"Oh right, well yeah, but if you're not feeling well we can ju-"

I cut him off, "I feel fine, and I'd rather get this over with to be honest," I look at him pleadingly while my insides churn. In truth I'd rather never have this conversation, but I know he needs to hear it, and it's worth the pain if it makes him understand more. He nods slowly, eyes darting nervously between my own; I can see fear in them. Is it remnants from what's just happened, or is it because of what he's about to hear? "Where do you want me to begin?" I ask after a few more bites of sandwich; the lightheadedness is dissolving, yet the sickness in my stomach is only increasing.

"The start? Just… tell me what happened after you left," I can see how much this is already paining him, and I hate that firstly I've caused this pain, and secondly, I'm about to add to it tenfold. But I do as he asks, just as I always have, and probably always will. I tell him everything. I tell him about how after storming away I'd gone straight to my dorm.

"You didn't go and find… him"? He asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. I notice the way he doesn't use Matt's name, and promise myself I won't either, in case that in some way makes this easier.

"Of course I didn't!" I reply, slightly hurt that he'd think that.

"Oh, sorry. I just sort of, always assumed you had… sorry, carry on," he nervously picks on the hem of his shirt, avoiding my eyes.

"Blaine," I say, his name coming out much quieter and gentler than I meant it too. He looks up, and I notice the fear I previously saw there has been replaced. It's been replaced by a void of sadness; suddenly his eyes look decades older, the eyes of someone who knows suffering. "I know this will never be any consolation, or excuse, for what happened… but I don't want you to think, in any way, shape or form, that I initiated this. I didn't leave you and go straight to him. I just- I went straight up to my dorm, and I remember laying there for what felt like a lifetime, when I heard a knock on the door…"

I continue the story. I explain how I'd thought it was him, so I'd called for my visitor to 'come in'. I tell him how surprised I'd been that it wasn't him_._I speaking hurriedly in a vain attempt to try and make it less painful, like ripping off a plaster in one tug instead of picking at it slowly. But I don't think anything could make this less painful. He doesn't speak again throughout the story, instead just nodding or shaking his head, the occasional groan rumbling deep in his chest. But he manages to maintain eye contact throughout, which makes it a hundred times worse. I can see every emotion, even the slightest change between annoyance and anger, between sadness and regret. I finally finish, choosing to end at the point where I saw him in the dorm hallways; he knows what happened after that.

He's looking away at this point, probably remembering himself what happened afterwards. But even though he isn't facing me, I can still see a shimmer of liquid glazing his eyes, I can still see the deep, ragged breaths he's trying to conceal, and I can still see the slight shake in his hands where they firmly grip the table. "I still don't understand… why?" He speaks after a few minutes as he turns to face me.

I open my mouth to speak but stop myself; I have no idea what to say. I have no excuse, no reason, no idea why I ever let Matt use me like that. Because after eight years I've finally worked out that's what it was. He hadn't really wanted me like the naïve 17 year old version of me thought, he'd been using me to get to Blaine. And I'd made it a walk in the park for him. "I- I don't understand the question?" I stammer as I feel tears begin to swell in my own eyes. This is the part I've _really_been dreading, when I have to try and explain why, when I have no idea myself.

"Why didn't you just, say no? Push him off? Scream? Anything to stop what happened?" He's almost pleading with me; as if giving me these options now will change our past.

"I wish I had," I whisper truthfully, my eyes never leaving his as I try my hardest to show him how much I mean these words.

"Just, please try and explain why this happened?" he asks desperately. And as always, I do exactly what he's asking; despite how much it's going to hurt both of us. And suddenly it's all too much, I can no longer hold my tears back and they pour from my eyes like a dam has broke, my chest quivers as I try to breath steadily and my hands shake.

"What I'm going to say… I'm not trying to use these things as an- an excuse. I have n-no excuse. I was an idiot, I was f-foolish and selfish and- and I ruined the b-best thing that's ever happened to me," I manage to say through tears as I try to stop the hiccups which comes with sobs. He nods at me and I see his eyes dart down to my hands, shaking atop the table. I move to hide them, but before I can he's reached out, taking them in his. He squeezes tightly; reassuringly, and I feel the sickness in my stomach increase even more as I realise _he's_ trying to comfort _me._"I don't know where t-to start," I admit.

"Anywhere," he says calmly. I can see tears still glimmering in his eyes, yet he seems to have calmed his body. He's perfectly in control of himself, as always, whereas I'm a blubbering mess with no control over myself.

"I- well- I guess, I'd had quite a bit to drink, and I'm definitely not using _that_ as an excuse. But, well, it probably didn't help my emotional state, and I- maybe if I hadn't drank quite so much I wouldn't have stormed away from you, and I wouldn't have let him-" He's nodding feverishly, eyes closed. "Well yeah, you know what I mean," I conclude, sensing that he doesn't need to hear what happened again. His head shaking changes to a single nod as he opens his eyes, a silent 'thank you' passes from him to me and I smile sadly. Our ability to communicate hasn't changed at least.

"Anyway," I continue taking a deep breath, "I know it's not justified, but I_was_ really angry at you," he interrupts me then.

"Kurt, stop saying 'it's no excuse' and 'it's not justified'. I know you're not trying to use these things as an excuse, I just… I need to know what was going on in your head,"

I nod, "Sorry, I just- I just don't want you thinking I'm trying to make what I did okay," he nods again and motions with his hand for me to continue, so I do. "Yeah, like I said, I was angry at you for shoving me around, I remember at the time thinking about all the people who pushed me around; the jocks at McKinley, people in the streets when they'd see us holding hands… well yeah, you get what I mean. And I was just, I was so, _so_angry at you for thinking you could push me around as well. I see now that you were doing it for my own good, but at the time all I could think was how I was fed up of being controlled by other people. So yeah, I was angry at you, and if I wasn't then I probably wouldn't have walked off," he's nodding again so I conclude that reason.

"Then there's the fact that, apart from you, I'd never had a guy pay me even the slightest notice. And I know you should have been enough. You _were_enough. But, in that stupid moment it was nice to be complimented by someone else. I know it's shallow and vain but- but it's the truth," he's nodding his again before speaking.

"I guess the fact he was so good-looking didn't help either," he says scathingly. I gulp, wondering whether he's going to continue, but he doesn't.

"I-well, no, I guess not. But, that's beside the point. I just… I was an idiot and I thought that he might actually fancy me, and for the briefest moment when he was flirting with me, it was nice to feel attractive to more than one person," I say hurriedly, my words coming out far too fast and jumbled to make a point, but he nods none the less. I can tell he's waiting for me to speak again so I take a deep breath before continuing. "It was like, I knew what was going to happen the moment he kissed me, and a massive part of me didn't want it to happen, but there was a very small part of me that did, and in my mind, at that moment, there seemed to be more reasons for than against. I can see now how stupid that was. I had so much to lose and nothing at all to gain," I'm shaking my head as if that'll prove my point more.

He's still looking at me, so I chose to carry on while my voice is still reasonably stable. "But then…I suppose, there was a point where it changed. I remember feeling really scared and- and wishing it was over. And," I wipe angrily at my eyes as I try to hold back more tears, "I remember that all I could think about was you, and what I'd done, and how I'd ruined everything, and how wonderful, and perfect and beautiful you were- _you are,_ and- and- and-" my chest's heaving in earnest now, breath dragging from my lungs, over my sore throat, scratching like sandpaper.

"Kurt, it's okay, just calm down… just breathe," he reaches out and tentatively touches a hand to my shoulder, but I recoil, hating myself for being the cause of this, hating myself for being the one who needs comforting when it's completely my fault.

"Kurty, don't cry..." a delicate voice speaks beside me. I lift my eyes and am surprised to see Ava, her tiny brow creased in confusion and concern. "Daddy says that when I cry it makes him feel like crying," her eyes which are so similar to Blaine's dart to look at the man in question, "and Kurty, it looks like it might be the same for you." I frown in confusion and turn to look at Blaine, who himself looks close to tears, as she continues to speak, "he's pulling that face he pulls when he's trying his hardest not to cry and to be a strong daddy, but sometimes daddy's need to cry also, don't you think?" she asks innocently as she turns back to me.

I nod, "yeah, sometimes," is all I manage to say.

"Av," Blaine says, I see him smile at her and nod towards the TV, silently asking her to leave. She does as he's asked, but not before wrapping her tiny arms around one of my own and squeezing tightly.

We sit in silence for a minute as my breathing comes under control again, finally, when I'm able to speak relatively normally again, I do so, "I'm so sorry Blaine." I turn to face him as I speak. "I know I said it before, but I'm saying it again. _I'm sorry._I'm sorry for ruining what w-we had, I'm sorry for h-hurting you, I'm sorry it was because of _him_of all p-people. I'm sorry I didn't realise what was happening before it was too l-late. I-I'm sorry that it's took eight years and a freak coincidence for us to find each other and for me to apologise again. I'm j-just so sorry, and I-I don't know what, if anything, I can ever do to make up for this, but I-I'm willing to do anything, I jus-"

"Kurt, stop!" He cuts me off, voice much louder and stronger than my own. I stop speaking abruptly, the words catching in my throat and causing me to hiccup as I struggle to hold them back. "You need to stop apologising. I told you before, and I'll tell you again; I forgive you. I forgave you almost as soon as I found out. I regret how I behaved, because if I hadn't been such a dick, then maybe we'd be sat here together under very different circumstances," he smiles sadly.

"Blaine; don't. Don't try and make this your fault. It was completely my fault. I was selfish and immature and a twat, and you had every right to react how you did and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Can we just please stop trying to both take all the blame and- and talk about something else?" I laugh lightly and nod, wiping at my eyes again in a vain attempt to make myself look less hysterical. "So… still up for dinner tomorrow night?" he asks, voice suddenly sounding so carefree and happy that it's almost impossible to detect the undercurrent of grief.

"Always," I confirm. We smile sadly at each other, and for the first time since _that_night eight years ago, I can sense myself starting to feel whole again.


	15. Chapter XV

Saturday July 27th 2019

**Kurt**

It's over a month since we discussed _that night,_and things couldn't be better. It no longer feels awkward, we no longer feel like we have to hold back, watch our tongues, guard the person we've become. We're relaxed around each other, we smile a lot, we laugh a lot, we share fond memories and exchange new stories. Summers officially started for both Blaine and Ava now, and I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I'm not looking forward to it enormously. I still have to work, but I can easily complete a weeks work in a few days if I really try. I'll exchange early mornings for late evenings, spending the day with them and the night working. And I can spend all weekend with them without Blaine being buried into his student's essays. It will be uninterrupted bliss and just what we need, just what I want.

However the 'uninterrupted bliss' I've had my heart set on has been unintentionally interrupted by Ava's father's parents. They rang at the last minute, inviting both Blaine and Ava to stay with them. In Cornwall. For two weeks. I'd been devastated, although I didn't tell Blaine. I acted excited and enthusiastic when he told me, despite him seeming less than excited or enthusiastic himself. He told me that quite frankly he's dreading it. It isn't that he doesn't like them, he says when I question him, but it's just too depressing. Apparently they speak non-stop about Sophie and William, and as much as he wants Ava's life to be filled with the memory of her parents, he doesn't want her world to revolve around her not having known them.

So they left, and as soon as he arrived in Cornwall he rang me, telling me they got there safely and that he was going bed, but he promises to talk tomorrow. I hadn't asked him to call, yet he had, and the fact that he knew I'd want to hear that they got there safe was enough to start the butterflies in my stomach flittering and to make my heart swell just a little. And sure enough, first thing every morning I receive an ever increasingly happy text; _13 days to go…, Only 10 left, Into single digits: 8, Only 3 more and I'll be home._His texts usually serve as the starting point to the day's conversation, which is sporadic and ever changing. Usually involving a handful of morning texts while I walk to work, followed by a quick phone call on my break, in which I also speak to Ava. Then I text him when I get home, and wait eagerly until he's able to escape the house for a 'run'. He then calls me, his tired voice reaching me from hundreds of miles away, painting a smile on my face. This morning I'm woken by a different text; _I know neither of us have been counting down, or happily ticking the days off our calendars, but today I'm coming home :D xx_

I grin from ear to ear all the way to work with this knowledge as we furiously text back and forth. I can't help but let my mind wander as a thought races incessantly through my mind; does _'home'_ mean something more than just London? I force the thought to the back of my mind when I arrive at work, deciding to focus my attention on getting out as early as possible and hopefully being able to meet Blaine at the train station. Yet, unsurprisingly time seems to move backwards, as it always does when you're looking so forward to something that it infects every thought and moment of your day.

Unfortunately I end up spending the majority of my morning working with 'George the Prick', as I've come to call him in my head, which doesn't exactly cause time to fly by, nor does it cause my especially good mood to last very long. Although once I spend some time with him he isn't really that bad; which is saying something considering how much I truly detested the guy only two months ago. By the afternoon we've almost finished and he's left to do some other work while I put the final touches on what we've been working on. I'm interrupted mid way through a sketch when a quiet, yet assertive knock on my door breaks the silence. I look up and motion through the glass for the young receptionist from downstairs to enter. As she gently pushes the door open I instinctively glance at the clock above it, noting that it's still only just four o'clock.

I drop the pencil in my hand and focus my attention on the pretty young woman in front of me. "What's up Emily?" I ask kindly. She's only been working here a couple of weeks and I can tell she's nervous. Admittedly I do have a slight reputation for being a bit of a bitch at times, but only when it's really justified, and only towards those who deserve it.

"Sorry to disturb you, but you've got a visitor downstairs, he told me not to ring you but to just come and get you, he says it's urgent…" she trails off slightly as my frown deepens.

"A visitor? Did you ask his name?" I question as I stand up

"I- no, sorry, I didn't think. D'you want me to go and find out-" She's getting increasingly more nervous, but I just smile in what I hope is a friendly way before speaking.

"That won't be necessary, I'll make my way down, thanks Emily," I smile again, hoping to convey that I'm not nearly as frightening as the rumours probably suggest. She nods back before leaving, pulling the door shut behind her. I glance at my phone before leaving, just to check for any calls I might have missed which would warrant someone coming to my work, but there's nothing, so I make my way downstairs.

As I walk my mind works furiously. I have a visitor, and more so than that, something that deems the situation 'urgent'. Suddenly my heart does a back flip; what if something's happened to Dad? Or Carol? Maybe Finn? But that still doesn't make sense, why would someone come to tell me in person? I shake my head and inwardly scold myself for even thinking such a thing. Finally I reach the bottom few steps and look up into the slightly noisy and crowded lobby, my eyes scanning frantically.

Then my jaw drops. As soon as my foot lands on the bottom step the small crowd of people in front of me seems to part like the red sea, and there, stood dead centre with the hugest grin plastered across his face and a triumphant shine in his eyes, is Blaine. My eyes grow wide as my hand instinctively shoots to cover my gaping mouth. I can see even from a distance the laughter in his eyes at my reaction, before Ava's voice breaks through the noise of the room and reaches me, "Kurty!" is all she shouts, before breaking into a sprint.

I'm suddenly so overcome with happiness and excitement and shock and, although I'm scared to admit it; love, that it takes me a moment to respond to her enthusiasm. I manage to tear my eyes from Blaine's which are still boring into my own intensely, and instead look to Ava, who's excitedly dashing through the crowd towards me. Just in time I kneel down and swoop her into my arms, swinging her high above my body before bringing her down and engulfing her in a tight hug. She winds her tiny arms around my neck and snuggles as close as possible. "I missed you Kurty," she whispers into my neck, breath tickling my skin, "and I think maybe Daddy did too, 'cause he was talking about you all the time," I grin at that tiny parcel of knowledge she's unwittingly gave me as I begin to walk as calmly as possible towards Blaine.

He too begins to walk, two suitcases pulling behind him, until we meet in the middle, and without a word of acknowledgement or a second of awkwardness, we embrace fiercely. I manage to manoeuvre Ava to the side slightly so he's able to wrap both his arms around my waist as I hold tightly with one arm around his shoulders. His head instinctively burrows into the crook of my neck, arms squeezing a little tighter as I feel him inhale deeply. I lean down too and rest my head against his broad shoulder, using it as an opportunity to breath in his familiar scent. As we embrace I feel my heart relax, my mind slow down and my body curve instinctively into the solid, unmoving shape of his. I hear him hum in contentment before sighing against me, breath grazing my collarbones and causing me to shiver slightly before he pulls away, looking up at me with slightly glazed eyes.

"Hey," is all he says, voice slightly lower than usual, as if addled by sleep and comfort.

"Hey," I respond with a smile, and for a moment we just stand together, both drowning in each others eyes and swimming in a sea of emotions; longing and need, coupled with happiness and relief. He's home, and I finally feel like I am too. "How're you here?" I ask after a few seconds of silence. My voice breaks the trance we both seem to have slipped into as my mind buzzes with a dozen questions.

"Oh it's amazing Kurt," he says excitedly, eyes lighting up, and I can clearly hear mocking in his tone, "this truly fascinating thing called a train, you should really gi-"

"Okay, okay. No need to be sarcastic," I respond, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. He grins in response, jostling me back slightly. "But seriously, how come you're home so early?"

"Told them Ava's got a birthday party to go to in the afternoon, which is still slightly true. We just forgot to mention that it's a sleepover at six o'clock, didn't we Av?" he says, turning his attention to his daughter who's still snuggled against my chest. He pinches her cheek teasingly, causing her to giggle and squirm against me as she tries her hardest to knock his hand away.

"How very sneaky," I say with a grin, still unable to tear my eyes away from him in case he disappears as quickly as he's appeared.

"I know right?" he smiles back, index finger gripped firmly in Ava's tiny hand as she swings his arm absently in front of us. "I know this is last minute, and a little rude, but d'you reckon you could finish now?" he asks, eyes meeting mine with hope glowing in them. I try my hardest to repress the bubble of joy which swells inside me, just smiling back with a gentle nod.

"Sure, if you just wait here and I'll go and grab my stuff," I tell him, leaning forward to release Ava, but he doesn't move to take her.

"You mean I don't get to see where fashion extraordinaire Kurt Hummel whiles away his days?" He smirks at me while stoically refusing to take Ava, "Well… when he's not sprawled on my sofa complaining about the place in question that is," he adds with an even bigger smirk.

"You want to see where I work?" I questions with a frown as I jump Ava further up my hip, realising there's no way he's taking her from me.

"Of course," he confirms with a confident nod. I don't speak, but instead just glare at him for a few seconds, before sighing and giving in.

"Fine…" I turn towards Emily who's sat behind the reception desk nearby. "Emily?" she turns to face me, "is it okay if I just leave these bags behind the desk for ten minutes while I go and grab my stuff?" she says it's fine, with a promise to keep an eye on them. Blaine thanks her as he shifts his and Ava's bags to behind the desk. "Follow me," I tell him with a defeated sigh. In response he just smiles widely and walks enthusiastically beside me up the stairs, still not offering to take Ava from me. I tried to put her down, but she clung tightly to the collar of my shirt and curled her legs underneath herself, making it impossible to stand her up.

We ascend the stairs in a comfortable silence, and once having reached the top he looks at me expectantly as I turn to the left and begin to walk through the open plan office. "I don't know why you want to see this place, it's nothing interesting," I tease lightly as I watch his eyes roam hungrily around the room. It's cluttered, crowded desks scattered around, an overused coffee machine in one corner, light streaming in through the large but dusty windows. There's a lot of people milling around as well, some of them sat at desks, others stood in groups talking while some were speaking hurriedly into their phones. A few of them look up confused and frown as the boss to many of them wanders through with a small child and an excitable puppy following loyally.

"I'm sure it's a lot more interesting that you're making out. Why's everyone staring at us?" he asks, voice sounding bemused as well as entertained.

"They're not staring at us. They're staring at you and Ava, and trying to work out whether I've got a secret husband and daughter no one knows about," I tell him truthfully as I try to avoid making eye contact with anyone. It isn't that I can blame them for thinking it, it just makes me sad how very wrong they are.

"Well, they're not far off really," Blaine jokes from behind me as I shift Ava's weight to my other hip, reaching out to open my office door. I laugh lightly and then realise what he's said. With my hand still resting on the door handle I turn to look at him confused. He sees the expression on my face and quickly tries to backtrack while nervously laughing, "I mean… I didn't mean it to come out like that, I just meant-"

"Blaine!" He stops talking abruptly at the mention of his name, and simultaneously we turn to see whose spoke.

"George?" Blaine replies, eyes lighting up as they fall on the man stood in front of us. My mind begins to race, how do they know each other?

"I can't believe it! What're you doing here?" George asks enthusiastically as he closes the gap between their bodies and hugs Blaine tightly. My mind almost explodes with confusion and it sweeps quickly over my face, causing my jaw to drop and my brow to furrow. Blaine hugs him back just as tightly, his small 5'9" frame dwarfed by George who's easily over six foot. Blaine's forced to bend his head to the side, pressed it into George's shoulder. I can see his eyes are closed and a content smile is playing across his lips. They stay like this for a moment longer than I would like before Blaine pulls away, stepping back beside me.

"I'm a friend of Kurt's," he explains as he motions in my direction where I'm still stood, frozen to the spot, and although I expect nothing less, the use of the word 'friend' makes my heart twinge slightly.

"Oh right," George nods in understanding, eyes falling on me for the first time, and I can't help but wonder if he'd even noticed me stood here. "Oh, hey Ava!" He says excitedly upon seeing the child in my arms. She grins impishly and burrows her head into my neck in shyness. _He knows Ava!_ My mind is over flowing with questions as wave after wave of confusion sweeps over me. _What is going on?_

I cough to clear my throat before speaking, "you guys know each other?" is the only vaguely sane question my mind seems capable of forming. I try my hardest to keep my voice light and carefree, an attempt to hide the slight anger and jealousy I'm feeling, but from the look on Blaine's face I haven't done as good a job as I wanted.

"Yeah, we dated about a year ago," George says, as if it's no big deal.

"What!" I half screech before coughing again in an attempt to detract attention away from my reaction as both their faces turn towards me. George's has amusement stapled across it, whereas in Blaine's I can see he's confused as well as slightly annoyed. Even Ava jumped in my arms at my screech and is now looking at me with a tiny frown. "I mean, I didn't know you were gay George," I say, trying to use that as an excuse for my frankly outrageous reaction as I avert my eyes, staring at the carpet beneath my feet in an attempt to avoid Blaine's accusatory looks.

"Oh right," is all George says in response, and I see out of the corner of my eye the movement of their heads as they look at each other. I can almost sense George is about to speak, I could swear I see his lips part to form words before Blaine's familiar voice interrupts him.

"It's great to see you anyway George," I hear the smile in his voice and can't resist glancing up to see how real it was. Inwardly I cringe when I recognise it as an authentic Blaine smile. His eyes are sparkling, the tiny wrinkles at the corners overly prominent as the grin breaks across his face. "But we've got to get Ava home and ready for a sleepover," my heart soars at the use of 'we' and I can't help but notice the little surge of realisation which flits across George's features, and as much as I hate myself for it I revel in the slight pain I see etched into his eyes.

"I'll get my stuff," I tell Blaine, handing Ava to him and slipping into my office, giving them privacy to speak without me. A few minutes pass before I hear the door creak open, followed by the shuffling of feet on carpeted floor. I don't look up from where I'm zipping my laptop into my bag but instead keep my eyes fixed firmly on my desk as I try to calm my frantic heart, and work out why this has bothered me so much.

"Kurt?" Blaine speaks eventually, and I can't put off looking at him any longer, so I glance up, trying to act nonchalant as I wait for him to speak. "Are you alright?" he questions after taking in the look in my eyes.

"Yeah, course I am, why wouldn't I be?" I ask in response, voice a little too fast and high to sound light-hearted.

"You were acting pretty strange out there," he says, and I can tell from the tone of his voice and the distance he's keeping between us that he's a lot more aware of my mood, and how bothered I am, by what's just happened than he's making out.

"Just a shock is all," I say with a fake smile, pulling my jacket over my shoulders and pocketing my phone, glancing nervously around the room, pretending to look for things I may have forgotten when really I'm, just avoiding his knowing looks.

"Shocked that I have an ex? Or shocked that it's George?" He's speaking slowly, obviously trying to keep the situation calm, especially seen as Ava is still cradled in his arms, her inquisitive eyes darting between us as we speak.

"Don't be an idiot Blaine. I know you have ex's, I know about Liam remember," I tell him with an edge to my voice as I shoulder my bag. I'm quickly irritated and his patronising voice isn't helping, "and there's Matthew of course, can't forget about him." As soon as the words leave my lips I instantly regret them. I quickly look up and see the hurt and anger flash in his eyes, and this recognition of the pain I'm causing him brings me back down to earth. "I'm so sorry Blaine!" I say within the next heartbeat as I move around my desk towards him, arms outstretched in apology, "I'm so, _so_sorry! I don't know what came over me!" I plead, desperately asking for his forgiveness.

"That was harsh, and unnecessary, and way out of line Kurt," he says calmly with a step backwards, eyes locking forcefully with mine, and I can see underneath the anger just how much I've hurt him. I wince at the truth of what he's said.

"I know, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for reacting like a jealous bitch, I don't know what came over me," I'm riddled with regret, I want to reach out and pull him to me but I'm terrified of rejection, so instead I just stand awkwardly in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

"Can we discuss this later?" he asks, looking pointedly at Ava who's remained quiet throughout our dispute. I grimace at the thought of having to talk about this, because how can I justify my jealousy when I have no right, and nothing to be jealous of? It isn't like Blaine's my boyfriend, and even if he was I couldn't be angry at him for having dated when he moved to London. I nod in agreement as I open the door; he walks past me as I hold it open for him.

"I'm sorry," I tell him again as he slips by. He doesn't respond, but just makes his way towards the staircase that not so long ago we happily climbed, rejoicing in each others company. I sigh as I lock the door before following him. "D'you want to come to mine?" I ask as we exit the building, each of us pulling a suitcase while Ava clings to his free hand.

"Ava needs a bath," he tells me, and I don't know whether he's using this as an excuse to go home, or whether he's asking permission to use mine.

"She's welcome to use mine," I tell him with a smile, still hoping he'll show me I'm forgiven.

"Okay," he says quietly, effectively ending any chance of a conversation as we walk. So instead I focus my attention on Ava, who happily revels in my questions and excitedly tells me about her holiday.

He doesn't speak another word until we reach home, where he thanks me for holding the door open as he walks in again. We wheel the suitcases into my room and he immediately drops and opens one, revealing a large collection of clothes in various colours, some striped while others are flowery, some shiny, others sparkling. He digs through them before settling on a yellow flowered t-shirt and light blue jeans, he also pulls out a pair of the tiniest, cutest pants I've ever seen and wanders into the bathroom with them. I follow and lean up to the high cupboard beside the sink. I pull down one of the largest, fluffiest towels I own before handing it to him. He thanks me again before turning to the bath and putting the plug in, turning both taps on. "Blaine, please talk to me?" I whisper into the silence of my house.

"I have nothing to say at the moment Kurt," he tells me emotionlessly as he begins to unbutton Ava's dress.

I sigh heavily, to which he doesn't react. So I leave, standing quickly I slip out of the room and through to the kitchen, where I lean against the counter in silence for the duration of Ava's bath. My mind works furiously as I try to concoct a way of getting out of this, a way to show him how sorry I am, but I come up blank. Eventually I hear the click of the door opening and look up in time to see them walk out together. Blaine's smiling down at Ava, laughter crinkling his eyes at something she's happily describing, tiny hands working furiously in front of her as she explains.

They cross the hall, into my bedroom; I hear the sound of a zip and figure he's getting her pyjamas and clothes for tomorrow ready. A matter of minutes later they re-emerge; her wet, curly hair falling thickly around her shoulders and over her favourite Dora the Explorer backpack. "I'll take her now, she'll be a little early but…" he trails of as his eyes meet mine. I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, trying my hardest to plaster a smile on my face as Ava steps forward for a hug. I pick her up and squeeze tightly, wishing her a good night and promising to see her soon. Then they leave, the sound of the door banging shut behind them resonates around my empty house like a prison door slamming shut. It makes me jump, and inwardly shudder as memories of our argument the morning after the part flood my mind.

I rub tiredly at my aching eyes as I try to think of what to do. I decide to attempt to distract myself for the 40 minutes he'll be gone by doing some work. Resolutely I extract my laptop from my bag and set it up on the desk in my spare room. I don't get much done, a few emails get half-hearted replies, some idea's half typed up before I hear a knock at the door. Time has flown because of how much I'm dreading what's yet to come, so it's with a frown that I shut the lid of my laptop before moving to answer the door.

As my hand rests on the handle I force a smile onto my face in the vain hope it could make this easier, and with a final breath I pull the door open to reveal Blaine. He's stood awkwardly; feet close together, head bowed while his hands rest out of view behind his back. At the sound of the door opening his head darts up, the golden brown of his eyes shining in the evening sun as they lock on my own. I watch as a small but real smile curves his lips and the shine in his eyes intensifies, and I know I'm forgiven. With this knowledge I feel the stress ebb from my bones, tension roll from my joints and fear seep from my heart, all to be replaced with happiness and relief and hope and love and Blaine.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I continue to smile down at him and he continues to smile up at me. "I'm so sorry," I say into the silence, because I need him to hear this, "I don't know what came over me, I was just so happy you were home and then…" I stop talking as my mind searches for the appropriate word. "I was just jealous, and I shouldn't have brought up… _him_of all people. And I'm sorry," I apologise again for good measure.

"It's fine, I forgive you," he say, smile growing slightly solemn. "I overreacted as well, I just… I hate hearing his name, especially from your lips. And the jealousy was uncalled for, but sweet nonetheless," he laughs lightly as a blush works up my cheeks before he continues, "can we just agree that we were both a little immature and we're both sorry and just forget about it?" he asks, and I can hear the pleading in his voice. I'm more than happy to oblige with forgetting about it.

"Happily," I affirm with a nod. He nods back, a smile flashing once again over his features and momentarily taking my breath away.

"I'm happy to be home as well," he says quietly, averting his eyes from my own as the blood rushes to his cheeks, staining them beautifully pink. I continue to smile at him as we stand in a slightly awkward silence. I want so badly to reach out and pull him to me, wrap my arms around him and kiss him, yet I can't. I have to control myself, because although I hope and dream that one day that's where we're heading, I don't know whether right now is the moment for it.

I'm shaken from these thought when my eyes catch on a flash of colour behind his back, causing me to frown slightly and crane my neck to try and see what it could be. This movement catches his attention and before I have the chance to get a good view behind his back he moves, arms coming around to the front, and grasped in one hand is a huge bouquet of bright yellow and deep purple tulips, causing me to gasp as both hands shoot up to cover my mouth. My eyes move slowly from the beautiful flowers to focus on his eyes, sparkling even more than before, contrasting with the pink of his cheeks. I watch the corners of his eyes crinkle in laughter as he takes in my reaction.

"These are for you," he tells me proudly as he steps up onto the ledge of my front door, causing my eyes to dart back down to the flowers in question. He's extremely close, half a foot separating our bodies as the flowers press against my chest and his scent washes over me for the second time today. I'm well and truly speechless, unable to even comprehend the significance of this simple gesture, because these are my favourite flowers, and he's remembered after all these years.

My mind continues to falter and short circuit as I try to work out what this means as I feel the warmth of his body press even closer to mine, and then I feel the lightest touch of his hand against mine where it still cover my lips, rough fingers grazing the delicate skin of my palm as he intertwines our hands, bringing mine down to hold the flowers myself. It's his touch so close to my lips which brings me back to earth, and as my fingers close around the stems I force my eyes to connect with his, and for the first time in all these weeks of our lives intertwining I see something different looking back at me, I see apprehension mingled with hope, determination fused with fragility.

"Can I come in?" I hear him question as if from the end of a long tunnel. I quickly swallow the lump in my throat and nod.

"Of course, sorry…" I trail off as I step back, our bodies connected for the briefest second where we both hold the flowers before he drops his and steps over the threshold of my house, the door closing firmly behind him. We smile awkwardly at each other before I speak, the silence becoming far too thick for my liking. "You shouldn't have… I can't believe you remembered," I utter the words into the petals of the bouquet as I lift them to my nose and inhale their very faint smell.

"I can't believe you think I'd forget," he counters as he watches me with a fond look sparkling in his eyes. I smile minutely before turning and walking into the kitchen. I hear the sound of his socked feet following behind me and revel in the feeling of him being back. _Being_ _home._ I busy myself finding a vase and filling it with water as he leans against the kitchen counter, eyes following my movements like a hawk. Then finally he speaks, and it feels like he's been holding it in and can no longer take it, "I've missed you," the words fall heavily into the comfortable silence and momentarily startle my movements, placing the flowers back on the counter I turn to face him properly.

His eyes are focused on my hands where they'd previously been cutting the stems, but as I move to look at him they move up my body, settling on my own astonished eyes. For a second he looks scared, a flash of regret darkening his features before I build up enough courage to respond. "I missed you too," my voice is quiet and scratchy, mouth having dried up, but in spite of this he grins. A grin so bright it could light up the darkest night, could overthrow the sun, could steal a heart. And it had, nine years ago when we first met.


	16. Chapter XVI

Saturday July 27th 2019 (Continued)

**Blaine**

After our small spat, I decide to stay at Kurt's for a while. After all, I haven't seen him in forever. But then 'a while' quickly changes to hours, and hours stretch well into the night. Then suddenly there's pizza being ordered, and I'm running to the shop to buy beer while he flicks through channels, settling on an awful rom-com which we just laugh hysterically through. And somehow we end up on the floor, and my fingers are a little numb from drink, and Kurt's smiling so bright it makes me breathless, nudging me in the shoulder as I stand, stumbling towards his kitchen.

The lights are all out and I smack my hip into his kitchen counter, hearing him gasp sympathetically while I just laugh through the pain. We continue to laugh as I finally reach the kitchen, swinging the fridge door open with a little too much force. Luckily I manage to correct myself before I fall as I squint into the brightness, quickly locating a fresh beer and pulling it roughly out as I pick up the bottle opener lying on the counter. I look up at Kurt as with a deft flick of my wrist the bottle top lifts off with a satisfying pop.

He's smiling happily back, eyes tinkling with joy, arm holding tight around his waist, trying in vain to soothe the cramps caused by excessive laughter. Then suddenly a chill shoots up my spine as the cold, amber liquid fizzes up the neck of the bottle and completely coats my hand in sticky liquid, something I've completely missed due to laughter and how very slightly drunk I am.

"Shit!" I exclaim, moving quickly to hold the offending bottle over the sink as I stifle the flow the only way I know how; lowering my mouth over the neck. This causes Kurt to laugh even louder and more uproariously, childish guffawing filling the room from where he's sat on the floor, back pressed against the sofa as he lifts a slice of pizza to his lips, before dropping it again as another giggle ripples through him at the site of me practically frothing at the mouth.

The image of him laughing so unrestrained causes me to laugh more, but with my lips still clamped around the bottle neck, my teeth clink against the glass as laughter swells through me, air sucking into my lungs and accidently taking a mouthful of beer down with it. An instant burning sensation cuts through me as my gag reflex kicks in and I begin to choke, great rasping breaths cutting my throat as I splutter frothed beer into Kurt's sink. Tears well in my eyes as I cough, obscuring my vision, preventing me from seeing the man whose loud, childish laughter fills the room, my mind and my heart. He's practically in tears himself as I choke and heave and laugh over the sink, my hands dripping with beer and my eyes leaking salty tears which mingle with the sticky liquid. I quickly find some tissues and wipe at my dripping face and tearful eyes before, still chuckling groggily, I make my way back towards him.

I sit back down, as close as possible as our knees knock together and our shoulders bump and we smile widely at each other. A moment later he lifts his pizza to his lips as I take a swig of beer, and just at that exact moment, that precise fraction of a second as my mouth fills with liquid, and his mouth with food, our eyes connect forcefully, and I know what's going to happen before it does, and so does he, and yet there's nothing either of us can do to stop it. So before either of us has half a chance to prevent it we both explode with laughter. The last of my self control is lost as beer sprays from my lips with shocking force, tears streaming down my cheeks, the spray manages to cover everything within six feet of where we're sat, and I quickly clamp my free hand over my mouth before turning to Kurt, who himself has practically spat his pizza out in laughter.

Yet his laughter stops as his eyes widen at the devastation of his pristine apartment. Grey wall's now sprayed with beer and saliva and his dark wood floor's covered in specks of tomato and cheese, peppers and pepperoni. And as he turns slowly to face me, expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief, I lose my very last shred of restraint, the very last thing holding me together. So with my hand still firmly clamped over my mouth; I laugh again. Forcing beer to flow up and out of my nose, it fizzes and drips down my navy t-shirt, staining it black. The fizz causes even more tears to pool in my eyes and mingled with Kurt's half scream I am, for the hundredth time this evening, overcome with laughter.

"Blaine! _What_is_wrong_ with you!" he manages to scream through his own laughter, trying to hold the pizza box beneath my still leaking nose in a last ditch attempt to restore cleanliness. I just shake my head from side to side as I manage to swallow the last of the beer in my mouth, gasping for air. I look up into his shining eyes and see them dancing with amusement, before he once again begins to laugh in earnest, entire face breaking out into one of the most peaceful and childlike smiles I've seen from him in a long time. He drops the soggy pizza box on the floor in defeat and leans back, shoulder shaking against mine as he continues to snigger happily. I can't resist joining in as my eyes continue to water with the fizzy feeling still in my nose.

As our joint laughter begins to calm I cough into my hand, clearing my throat slightly, which is still rough from choking. As I do so his head falls to the side, resting against my shoulder. I shuffle down slightly to make it more comfortable for him, allowing myself to rest my tired head on his sweet smelling hair. I hear him sigh in contentment, which in turn causes me to smile as my eyes flicker closed with exhaustion. I raise my bottle and gulp it down thirstily, the cool liquid soothing my throat. Once the bottle's empty I line it up beside the others, which I can't bring myself to count, before snuggling further into the warmth of Kurt.

_There's no where on Earth I would rather be_, I think with pleasure as wave after wave of Kurt's heat and Kurt's scent and Kurt's happiness sweeps over me, covering me and coating me and wrapping around me like the warmest, most welcoming blanket.

"'M tired," I hear him mumble into the silence. I nod in agreement, knowing he'll feel it against his head. "You can stay here tonight," he tells me assertively as I feel him move beneath me, and I know he's moving to stand up, but I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to lose his solidity and his warmth and his smell.

"Don't move," I whine as I feel a coolness sweep over the side of my body he's no longer pressed against. I move to shuffle closer to him, but he's already stood up and it's too late as I lean too far to the side, waiting to hit his solid weight which is no longer there. Instead I go past the point from which I could've caught myself and instead just slump onto the bare wooden floor beneath me. I groan at the contact of the hard surface and the disappearance of Kurt, before his light chuckle brings me back to Earth. "Kurt?" I question dumbly into the darkness as my eyes squint in an attempt to find him. Eventually they focus on a tall silhouette above me, and I can see a light shining in his eyes as I lazily grin up at him.

"Give me your hand," he says with a grin as he holds one out for me. I half smile back before lifting my heavy arm and sliding my still slightly sticky hand into the softness of his. He heaves me up with more strength than I'd've ever assumed he has, taking me by surprise and not giving me enough time to tense my leg muscles ready to take my weight. "Woah," he gasps beside me as I stumble and fall flush against him, one hand winding around his neck for support while the other still grasps his, my head colliding painfully with his protruding collarbones. "Okay?" he questions as he removes his hand from mine, instead winding both around my waist, lifting me more upright yet allowing my body to remain against his. I nod into his shoulder as I lace my now free hand around him and inhale, the smell of his coconut body butter muddling my senses and causing my grip around him to subconsciously tighten.

"You're stronger than I remember," I manage to articulate one of many thoughts racing through my mind as I feel him begin to attempt to move me. He laughs and I feel his warm breath tickle my scalp as he continues to awkwardly shuffle me towards the door. "D'you think you could carry me?" I ask as an idea jolts through my mind like lightening.

"I'm sure I'm strong enough to lift you," he says mockingly before continuing, "now can you try and walk a little instead of just letting me drag you?" he asks with another chuckle as I feel my left sock catch on a piece of floorboard.

I began to shake my head, he's misunderstood me. "No, I mean… can you carry me _now_?" I half beg, half whine, hoping to badger him into submission as I look up with sad, puppy eyes and a pout.

"No matter how cute a face you pull I am not carrying you," he confirms after taking in my pleading expression, but despite how hard he's trying not to smile I can see the slight curve either side of his lips and the shine in his eyes.

"Please…" I beg needily, before deciding to use of one of Ava's favourite techniques of, as she calls it, 'being a jellyfish'. It mostly consists of just slumping and turning all your limbs to jelly, preventing anyone from moving you, the only option being to pick you up. I do so and it takes Kurt by surprise as I completely stop supporting myself, and in the shock of the extra weight he very nearly drops as my arms loosen around him, my body slipping from his grasp. But just in time he tightens his hold and pulls me back up against him as I think about how much more difficult this would be with a man than a three year old.

"Blaine, stop this and just walk," he says authoritatively as he jumps me further up his body, my head banging up before slumping back against his chest, my feet dragging as he attempts to heave me towards the light of the hallway.

"Nuh uh," I mumble into his neck as I shake my head, a small smile skirting over my lips at the sound of frustration and slight amusement in his voice.

"Fine," he sighs in defeat as without further warning he leans swiftly forward, arms leaving my waist and instead skimming down my body, tightening around my thighs. There is a second's pause as I feel him inhale deeply, chest swelling before he lifts me, easily and effortlessly above him, my entire body falling forward with the force and draping over his shoulder. My world turns literally upside down as he straightens up, arms clamped tightly around my thighs where I arc over his shoulder. I gasp in shock as my head falls down to rest about midway down his back, before I begin to laugh. But from where my stomach presses against his shoulder blade it hurts so I quickly stop as Kurt begins to walk, long forceful strides causing my head to spin as the floor moves above me, then suddenly a different sensation sweeps through me.

I shiver as a cold sweat courses up my spine from the base, tingling the hairs on the back of my neck, causing them to stand on end. "Kurt," I grumble into the silence. He doesn't respond, but just continues to carry me. Then suddenly my head begins to spin and although my world is already upside down it shifts again, until I'm no longer sure which is the right way up. "I think I'm going to puke," I manage to whisper, hoping he'll hear me.

"Don't you dare!" He practically screams as he leans forward to stand me upright, but it's too late. With my head still upside down and sweat sliding the wrong way up my spine, dripping from my brow; I vomit, straight down his back, onto his skin tight black top and apartment floor. I hear him gasp, shooting upright as the mostly liquid soaks through his shirt. I manage to hold myself upright by grasping the doorframe which we've just reached, and with fear I look up into his eyes and see them gleaming with anger, disbelief and disgust, which for reasons I will never understand, makes me laugh.

"I can not _believe_you just _puked_ all over me, you're _disgusting_!" He shouts, crossing his arms over his front and grasping both corners of his t-shirt, pulling it swiftly over his head, before stepping away from the puddle on the floor, dropping his shirt on top of it. This causes me to laugh further, before my eyes are drawn to his exposed skin.

He's paler than usual in the moonlight which creeps through the windows, body frighteningly similar to how I remember, yet evidently different. His stomach muscles are more defined, as is his chest. His shoulders are also much broader and his collarbones more prominent. "Will you walk now?" he asks with venom, voice shaking me from my trance as I glance up into his eyes, trying to gauge how seriously angry he is. But behind the raw anger I see amusement and sympathy. I nod, to which he turns quickly and walks away, leading the way into his bedroom. In fascination I watch his muscular shoulders change shape beneath skin as his arms swing, my eyes trailing down his spine, taking in his slim waist and the many curves and dips of his pale skin, stretched across muscle and bone.

I become vaguely aware of the sound of a zip opening before I have enough sense to follow, but just as I reach his bedroom door he comes rushing out, my toothbrush in hand. He smiles as he hands it to me and I realise he must have searched my suitcase. Then I feel his hands clamp down on my shoulders and quickly spin me round, forcing me in the direction of the bathroom. He pushes me in and shuts the door, leaving me alone in the brightness of an empty room as my eyes sting. I stumble towards the sink and manage to locate his toothpaste before brushing my teeth thoroughly, the minty freshness a welcome change from the burning taste of sick I hadn't realised I can taste. I then make my way back into his bedroom to find him leant over, shuffling around in my suitcase, he looks up as I enter and frowns.

"I can't find your pyjamas," he says as he takes my toothbrush and tucks it back into my toiletries bag. I just shrug noncommittally, to which he sighs and straightens up before heading towards a large set of drawers set beneath his window. He turns around and throws a balled up white t-shirt towards me, which shockingly I catch. "Just put that on, I'll find you some sweatpants but they'll be massive," he says with a smile as he very obviously takes in my height.

"Don't bother, I don't like sleeping in 'em anyway," I tell him truthfully as I shamelessly begin to remove my clothes, stumbling slightly when my jeans fall to the floor and I'm unable to step out of them. I hear Kurt laugh, looking up I see he's smiling at me, laughter in his eyes as he walks from the room; I smile to myself as with a final tug my jeans fall in a heap on the floor. As I change my top I watch him walk back in and head to the side of his bed, bucket in hand, he places is on the floor and pulls the covers back, before moving to the foot of the bed, picking up a t-shirt and sweats I didn't notice folded neatly in a pile. As I pull the white top he's given me over my head I'm surprised to notice him moving towards the door. "'Where're you going?" I ask, brow furrowing in confusion as he turns to answer me.

"I'm going for a shower. I stink of vomit, for some unknown reason," he replies sarcastically, lips pulling into a smile as he hugs his clean clothes to his exposed chest.

"Oh," I reply dumbly as my mind searches for a way to ask the question racing through my mind. "W-what am I… where am I…?" I mumble as I glance around the room, knowing exactly what I want to ask but even through a slightly drunken haze not having the confidence to voice it.

"You're sleeping in here; I didn't bring the bucket for me, go and get in bed," he tells me with a smirk as he nods towards the side with the covers pulled back. My mouth opens and forms a small 'o' as realisation dawns, yet still my question isn't answered, _where is he sleeping?_ My mind wanders for a moment before I'm brought back to reality by the clicking of the door shutting. I quickly hasten over and yank it open.

"Kurt!" I call as I watch the bathroom door shut. It reopens and his face emerges quickly, eyebrows raised in a silent question as he waits for me to speak. "A-are you coming back?" I whisper after far too much hesitation, my eyes moving to focus on the floor. Without intention I've asked the question that I've secretly wanted the answer to for months, yet have never had the courage to ask. I hear as he moves from behind the doorframe and a second later my line of sight is filled with his bare feet coming to rest inches from my own. I glance up into his eyes and see sadness, but behind the sadness is hope and determination. My heart hammers frantically as I wait for an answer, because we both know this is about more than just where he's sleeping tonight.

"I've been back for months," he says in a whisper, so quiet I have to strain to hear, yet with more emotion and meaning than if he'd shouted it from the highest mountain. Out of my peripheral vision I see his hands rise slowly before coming to rest either side of my face. I feel as his soft palms press delicately against my stubbled jaw and cheeks, causing my eyelids to involuntarily stutter shut as a relieved sigh escapes my parted lips. I smile as his long fingers splay to cup my face and his thumbs ghost over the thin skin of my eyelids before he speaks again. "And I'm not going anywhere," he tells me almost silently, causing my eyes to flicker open sleepily to take in his expression; bottom lip curled between his teeth, eyes pleading for me to understand, cheeks flushed. Instinctively I step forward, forcing myself between his still raised arms to press my face into his creamy skin, my arms wrapping around him in desperation as his leave my face to hold tight around my shoulders, hands burrowing into my curls.

We stand in silence for a moment before both sighing in relief, comfort and happiness. When we step back I keep my hands held firmly against his bare waist while his return to cup my face. A small smile graces both our faces as we look at each other, before he steps forward and presses a tender kiss to my forehead, after which he drops his hands and steps away, forcing me to let him go. And in silence I watch as he disappears into the bathroom, the click of the door echoing eerily around the now peaceful apartment.

With a final tired sigh I move back to his bedroom, climbing under the covers with determination to stay awake and wait for him. But his bed smells like washing powder and a familiar fabric conditioner, coconut body butter and strawberry shampoo, long nights in Dalton dorm rooms and movie cuddling. They smell like first kisses and falling in love and like the happiest year of my life. They smell like Kurt, and as my mind falls happily into slumber I'm transported back to our time at Dalton together, a content smile curling my lips.

**Kurt**

I pull open the bathroom door and step out of the steamy room into the clear, cool air of a summer night, a slight breeze whipping through my wet hair from an open window and sending a shiver down my spine. Involuntarily I glance at my bedroom door and smile at the knowledge that Blaine's in there. _I'll just check he's okay,_I tell myself as I silently creep over and push the door open an inch to peer in. Sure enough he's fast asleep, face pressed into the pillow, one arm slung into the free space beside him, hair falling haphazardly around his serene face. I smile at the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with every breath, before flicking the light off and pulling the door shut silently.

I then turn and walk into my wrecked living room in defeat. Switching on the main light I took in the damage. A small pile of sick lies a few feet from the doorway, my ruined top beside it. The kitchen counter is dripping in beer, and further into the room there's evidence of pizza, chunks of cheese having congealed into the carpet along with sauce and peppers, and as I walk further in I feel crumbs crunch beneath my bare feet. I sigh as I pick up the empty and slightly soggy pizza boxes, glancing around at a large patch of grey wall which is not considerably darker than the rest, large drip marks having cascaded right down to the skirting board. While shaking my head in disbelief I go about cleaning the room as quickly and quietly as I can, rubbish thrown into the bin, cups and plates hidden in the dishwasher till morning, empty bottles placed softly in the recycling. I hastily wipe down the coffee table which is drenched before setting to work on scrubbing up the sick. My top gets thrown unceremoniously in the bin; landing with a 'plop' on top of the pizza boxes, and then the majority of cheese is picked from the carpet, the rest left for the hoover in the morning.

By the time I finish the room looks considerably cleaner and smells of a concoction of cleaning products, instead of beer and vomit. So it's in exhaustion that I fall onto the sofa and decide to just lie down for a little bit. I glance at the clock out of the corner of my eye and see it's gone 2am. I allow myself what I promise will be a ten minute rest, because the leather really is surprisingly comfortable after such a tiring day, and if I tuck my arms underneath my head at a certain angle I can create quite a nice pillow.

/

An indefinable amount of time later I wake up to the feel of the cushion beneath me moving, dipping slightly in the middle as if someone has sat down. My eyelids flicker open tiredly and I'm momentarily surprised that the room is in complete darkness, being sure that I'd not turned the light off. Then I suddenly become aware of a gentle hand tracing my hairline and occasionally running through my no longer wet hair. I half roll over to find Blaine staring down at me from where he's perched on the edge of the sofa, a warm smile breaking across his face when our eyes connect.

"You cleaned up," he states, head cocking to the side slightly. His words are no longer slurred and his eyes are glazed with sleep instead of alcohol. _He's sober_, I realise with a smile as I nod and roll over onto my back completely, legs automatically straightening beneath me as my arms arc above me, forcing my eyes closed as a quivering yawn ripples through my body.

When my eyes once again flit open I'm surprised to see Blaine has disappeared. Frowning slightly I prop myself up on my elbows and glance down the hall, wondering where he's gone. Then suddenly he re-emerges, a pillow under one arm while the other drags my duvet the entire length of the house. "What're you doing!" I ask with a hint of indignation. But he doesn't reply, instead he just smiles when he finally reaches me and drops everything on the floor. I watch with startled eyes as he leans forward and gently lifts my head, tucking the pillow beneath it. Instantly I feel my neck and shoulder muscles relax as I sink further into it, not having realised how hard the arm rest is below me.

He then moves to perch on the edge of the sofa, his back pushing against my side as he presses further back. "Move over," he half whines when I don't instantly move. I roll onto my side so I'm facing him and shuffle back until my spine's pressed flush against the back rest, my legs spread out straight to provide him with more room. He grins childishly before lowering himself beside me, head coming to rest on the pillow alongside my own. We smile stupidly at each other as with some difficulty he manages to tug the large duvet over us and happily slings it over me. I grab the edge and pull it further up, tucking it slightly behind myself to keep it in place before forcing my arm beneath the welcome softness. Then finally he swings his bare legs onto the sofa and shimmies over onto his side, now facing me. His arms curls against his chest, the cover pulled right up to his chin, making him seem even smaller than usual.

"Hi," he whispers, eyes dancing in the small light which streams through the uncovered window, wrinkles forming in the corners because of how hard he's smiling.

"Hi," I whisper back, smiling just as widely. And for a moment we just lay like this, our bodies mirroring each others, so close and yet untouching, both buried beneath the covers, chests rising and falling almost in synch as our eyes remain locked. Then without warning I feel a tentative finger caress my upper arm, causing me to jump slightly with surprise as a shiver shoots up my arm.

"Is this okay?" He asks as his finger continues to skim up and down my bare arm while his eyes search mine for any doubt or hesitation. I nod minutely as I feel my muscles relax and loosen under his delicate touch. We continue to just watch each other as the patterns he's tracing become increasingly complex, reaching right from the bone at the tip of my shoulder down to the crease of my inner elbow, his touch as light as a feather as his eyes stare intently into my own, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to raise and my toes to curl in anticipation. Then unexpectedly his hand drops off my elbow and rests against my waist momentarily, before running down my body to rest on the hill of my hip. At some point my eyes have stuttered closed in relaxation, but as his hand grips my hip tightly they shoot open in surprise, only to be greeted by his face even closer than before. Only a few inches separating us, causing me to gulp and subconsciously lick my lips.

He's staring into my eyes so intensely that I can almost feel my skin burning. I feel as my heart rate quickens and begins frantically beating out of my chest, I can practically taste him when I inhale deeply; he's so close. And I'm so lost and surprised and shocked that it takes me a moment to realise that his grip has tightened even further, pulling me towards him. Then his other hand seems to appear from nowhere as it reaches out, lightly cupping my cheek. I jump slightly at the unexpected contact, causing a gentle laugh to escape his lips as his eyes dart down to my own, tracing them quickly with his eyes before following the same path tantalisingly slowly with his fingertip. His touch causes my skin to prickle and my lips to part slightly as bolts of electricity shoot down my spine.

It's too much, I should push him away or laugh it off, but nothing can break the trance he's locked me in. Not even when I watch his lips part as he inches closer, not even the slight increase of pressure where he's holding my hip, not even the explosion of his pupils a second before his eyelids flicker shut can break this trance. Because I know where it's heading, and there's nothing I want more, nowhere I would rather be, nobody else I ever want to spend a second of my life with.

Then I feel his warm breath tickle the sensitive skin of my lips, my eyes stuttering shut as my hands unconsciously reach out and press against his chest. There's a small pause; a second to make sure we both want this, before his lips press against mine. So soft and light that I barely feel them, like silk trailing across bare skin, eliciting a moan which escapes my throat and falls straight between his parted lips. I feel him pull back and smile before his lips graze mine again, this time with more pressure and urgency, making me lightheaded and dizzy with anticipation as my grip tightens on his shirt, balling the material into fists in an attempt to pull him closer. I feel desperate and needy as my mind and body and heart beg for more. Then suddenly his hand drops from my hip to press against the small of my back, and I feel as he shuffles closer, leg forcing its way between mine as our hip bones knock slightly and he presses me harder into the back rest.

I'm vaguely aware of his warm hand slipping up the back of my shirt, calloused fingers tracing up my spine before I'm completely overwhelmed as he deepens the kiss, his lips parting as his warm breath mingles with mine and his tongue trails teasingly along my bottom lip. I gasp at the sensation which ripples through my body at his touch, causing him to laugh deeply, the vibrations in his chest tickling my hands where they still rest. His familiar taste and smell and feel is making my head spin as I part my lips in harmony with his and simultaneously our tongues dart out, crashing together wantonly and quickly synchronising, and this time it's he who moans, a noise which starts off a whole other sensation in my body. Suddenly overcome with desperation and a need for more I trail my arms up his chest, winding them around his neck, forcing the kiss to deepen and his body to press even more against mine, not an inch separating us along the entire length of our joint bodies, legs tangling further as mine weave around his.

He literally growls as my hands splay at the base of his neck, my fingers getting lost in his curls as I tug, frantic for more. Suddenly his hand is back at my hip, beneath my clothes, and I feel as his sharp fingernails dig into my skin desperately before he pushes slightly, forcing me to roll onto my back as he rolls with me, coming to rest above me without once breaking our lips apart, his strong thigh forcing it's way between mine. Then his lips are gone from my own, instead trailing a string of wet kisses down my jaw and neck, causing my eyes to roll back as my head presses into the pillow and a breathy moan breaks free of my lips. "Blaine," I manage to mumble through a gasp as warm hands glide further under my shirt, gripping the pale skin stretched across my rib cage hard enough to leave half moon indents. "Blaine," I repeat with more force as my grip tightens in his hair, tugging him up slightly.

Then suddenly his warm lips leave my neck, causing me to shiver as the cool breeze dries his kisses onto my skin. He instantly looks up at me, eyes wide with curiosity, silently questioning me. His thick eyelashes cast spindly shadows against his cheek bones, lips parted and wet as heaving breaths rage through his chest, arms shaking slightly under the strain of holding his weight above me.

There are so many words rushing through my mind, emotions vibrating through my body, needs beating in my heart, but the moment our eye connect my entire world seems to realign. Fear washes through me like a storm, lifting and rearranging my life, my hopes and dreams, crushing parts of my past and making way for a future I've never thought possible. Then the fear's gone and all that remains is the calm after the storm, the settling of realisation as a serene peacefulness settles through my body. Because he's all I can see; all I've ever wanted to see.

My hands are still buried deep into his hair as his eyes remain trained on mine, brow furrowing slightly when I don't speak. Instead I just smile slowly up at him and instantly the anxiety drains from his face, replaced by a relieved smile. We continue to grin at each other as I slowly draw his face down to my own, eyelids flickering shut as our lips press together again, a content sigh drifting from his lips to tickle my own. I feel as his entire body relaxes above me, legs easing down to tangle around my own as his now calm chest presses against me. Then he pulls away, smiling contently once more as I brush dark hair back from his face before he burrows his face into the crook of my neck. He untangles his arms from between our joined bodies and drops one into the space between my side and the back rest, the other weaving over and up my chest, coming to rest lightly against my neck, and I'm sure he's feeling for my pulse, still racing higher than usual.

"I've wanted to do that for months," he whispers into my skin after a few minutes silence, followed by the lightest of kisses against my neck. I hum in agreement as his lips continue to tickle my sensitive flesh.

"What took you so long?" I ask, half jokingly as I allow my eyes to flutter shut and my body to move slightly, moulding myself closer to him.

"Scared," he mutters almost silently against my neck as his grip around me tightens imperceptibly. I feel his eyelashes tickle me lightly as his eyes stutter closed.

"Of what?" I ask equally quietly into the darkness of night as my heart rate quickens, and from where his hand is pressed against my neck I'm sure he'll feel it.

"Falling in love," he breathes, words falling from his lips straight onto my pulse point, as if trying to find the quickest way to my heart.

"I think it might be too late," I say truthfully as my heart continues to beat out of my chest and my hold on him tightens.

"So do I," he agrees before pressing a final, lingering kiss to the skin just below my ear. I can feel a smile playing on his lips and in response I smile back, knowing he can't see me, but I'm sure he'll feel it, because happiness and relief and joy is washing off of me, seeping from my pores and leaking from my soul, falling on and wrapping around the man pressed against my chest.


	17. Chapter XVII

Sunday July 28th 2019

**Blaine**

I wake slowly to the feel of movement beside me. I shiver as a slender arm ghosts down my chest and soft hairs tickle my jaw. As my eyes blink open, stinging slightly in the brightness of morning, I'm confused. Beneath me I feel hard leather while above me is a soft duvet. The space to my right is empty, exposed to the cool breeze skimming around the room, while my left side is body-warm and solidly soft.

Slowly my mind catches up with itself as I begin to recognise Kurt's home, and then it begins to reel as I recognise the feel of Kurt pressed to my side. And all at once I remember and relish in the familiar yet unfamiliar feel of his legs wound around my own, his jutting hip bone pressed against my thigh, the way his hand rests lazily around my waist and his head presses against my chest. How his ear lines up perfectly with the position of my heart and the way my heart rate quickens under his sleeping touch.

Then the slightly fuzzy memory of early morning swims through my mind, causing a smile to curl my lips and my heart to soar as my mind's filled with the memory of his lips pressed against mine, cool hands sliding around my neck, the way he felt beneath me and the taste of his skin, the soft, shared noises of relief and desperation which mingled with a sigh before dissolving into the night. I take a deep breath, causing my chest to balloon and Kurt's head to rise with it, before a long, relaxed sigh trickles from my lips to ruffle the soft brown hair beneath my jaw. In an odd way, I feel like I'm home, like this is where I've always been destined to be, tangled together with this beautiful man.

Slowly and gently I begin to shuffle further down the sofa, eager to align our faces but fearful of waking him. In response to my movement he curls away slightly, spine pressing against the sofa back as his head drops from my chest to rest against the pillow beside my own. As I roll onto my side and edge closer his arm around my waist clings tighter, as if even in his sleep he's unwilling to let me go. We lay like this for a long time. Him unknowingly being watched as our calm, rhythmic breathing falls into harmony and our chest move in unison, our faces so close that we share each breath, breathing in the air which has just been expelled from the others lungs. And in a way the sharing of something so essential to life is more intimate than I could ever have imagined.

I watch in awe at the flicker of his eyelids as he dreams. I smile as in his sleep a small grin flashes across his face. My eyebrows rise slowly as I watch his pink lips part and then my pulse quicken as a faint, stuttering moan echoes from his lips, falling against my own like a kiss. And I can't stand it anymore, as much as I love to watch him sleep, in this moment I need him awake, I need solid evidence that last night wasn't just an extremely vivid dream.

So with slightly shaking hands I raise one to lay a tentative finger against his temple, tracing a gentle path right down to the corner of his still parted lips. Silently I move forward into the space between us, keeping my eyes open as I wait for him to wake. I press my lips gently against his before pulling back. He doesn't wake, which causes me to stifle a laugh as I inch closer again, this time curling my hand into his hair, moving it deeper in the softness before coming to rest at the nape of his neck as I graze my lips over his again with slightly more pressure. And with a gasp which sucks the air straight from my lungs his eyelids flicker open sleepily. His pupils are wide and I can see myself reflected in the darkness while his irises are navy blue, darker than I've ever seen them.

Slowly a smile creeps across his face, and then he speaks, his voice low and gruff with sleep, "wake me like this every morning," he insists, before his eyelids stutter back closed at the same time as my own, and together we close the small gap between us, me nodding into the kiss as my entire body feels like it's floating.

We continue to kiss slowly, amorously, our lips moving together and tongues timidly touching, before beginning to leisurely explore each others mouths. His tongue trails along the sharp points of my upper teeth while mine explore his lower ones, and slowly we begin to rediscover and relearn each others bodies. Cautious hands run lightly against each others bodies, through hair, cupping cheeks, fingertips trail down necks and across collarbones, hands splay against chests, palms pressing against sternums before roaming down, over clenching stomach muscles before grasping hips and pulling lightly to get even closer. Our legs tangle closer than I thought was physically possible as I feel his hand slide from my hip to grasp my bare thigh, gently pressing his entire body against mine as he rolls me over to lie above him.

I steady myself as I roll and place my elbows either side of his head as my hands continue to caress his face and neck and hair, my tongue exploring his mouth even further. My body is in sensory overload as I become more and more engulfed in his smell and his taste and his hands and his body and his _almost_ inaudible moans. I feel with a shiver as his hands slide under the fabric of my top and glide up my stomach, around my waist. I moan into his mouth as his fingernails dig into the tender skin before releasing me to move smoothly up either side of my ribcage. I then feel a gentle tug of fabric against my spine. Our lips separate as he lifts his shirt from my skin, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor, and the thought suddenly strikes me that I'm wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, while he's fully clothed, but that thought, and any ideas that may have followed, quickly dissolve as his wet lips press into the space between my clavicles, moving further and further down my chest, arms winding around my back as his hips roll forward slightly to meet my own.

I gasp at the contact and bow my head to rest on the pillow where his has disappeared from as I feel him gradually work his way down my body, fingertips grazing up my spine before trailing down my sides, rubbing circles into my hip bones. I both love and hate that he knows exactly how to make me come undone, even after so many years he can still make me moan with the lightest of touches.

I gasp again as his tongue runs along the ridge between two ribs, his grip on my hips tightening, pushing me gently onto my side and trapping me between the back of the sofa and the warmth of his body, before he rolls again, coming to a stop when he's above me. With all the movement and the shuffling and changing of position the cover has fallen from atop us and is crumpled on the floor in a pile, causing a cold chill to settle across my skin where the warmth of his body had been. Then suddenly he curves towards me, legs straddling me as he presses his hips and chest against me. Desperately I force my hands beneath the tight fabric of his t-shirt, trailing them shakingly over his soft skin before forcing the fabric up and over his head. I look down then and marvel at his beauty, large expanses of pale, hairless skin contrasting against my own slightly hairy, olivey skin, his eyes closed as pink lips dance across my body, hair falling into his face, pale, willowy hands roving over me.

My head falls back with a moan as his lips close and suck around a nipple, causing my entire body to shudder beneath him. He smiles against my chest before trailing a final string of kisses all the way up my chest, along my collarbone, the curve of my neck, across my jaw before settling gently against my lips. My eyes drift open and are met by shining blue. And then he's gone, dropping into the space between me and the back rest, his lips falling tenderly against my shoulder as one legs forces its way beneath mine, locking me in his hold.

"I'm scared once we move from here things will change back to how they were," he says beside me, almost silently as his hold on me tightens, eyelashes tickling my shoulder as his eyes close.

I frown at the sudden change of mood and tilt my head to look down at him, responding light heartedly, "let's never move from here then," I joke, hoping to avoid the serious place this conversation seems to be heading. I watch as a small, slightly forced, smile curls his lips before a forlorn expression ghosts over his features and he burrows his face further into my skin, inhaling deeply. "Or at least for the rest of the day," I offer as a conciliation prize.

In return I get one word, muttered into my skin silently, "can't."

"Why not?" I question, turning onto my side and propping myself up on one elbow so as to more easily talk to him. He opens his eyes and cocks his head to the side slightly, questioning me in return.

"Your daughter," he eventually says slowly, each syllable emphasised as his eyebrows rise as if to question my sanity.

"Shit!" I gasp, bolting upright and swinging my legs off the sofa as I search out the only clock in the room, the small flashing time on the microwave, as I internally curse my mind for being so forgetful and my body for being so easily distracted. However I see with relief that I still have time before I need to leave to pick Ava up. So it's with a smile that I lean back into what I assume will be the sofa. But at some point between shooting up and slumping in relief Kurt has sat up behind me, so when I fall back I land with a thump against his chest. "Sorry!" I gasp as I lean forward and curve round to look at him, my eyes apologetic.

He's laughing as he rubs his bare chest, "it's fine," he tells me, eyes sparkling as he turns to press his back into the sofa and unbends one leg. He curls it behind and around my body so that one rests either side of me. He then reaches his arms out, pressing his hands to either side of my waist as with a smile he gently pulls me back. I grin as I slink back into his warmth, shuffling until my spine lies flush against the solidity of his chest. His long arms wind around my waist, underneath my arms before bending up to splay his palms against my chest. I raise my hands and place them above his, intertwining our fingers before pulling them up to my lips. I kiss each fingertip at the same time as he buries his head into the crook of my shoulder, kissing and sucking lightly on the skin.

I drop our joint hands from my lips and let him take control as he wraps them around me and squeezes tightly, continuing to kiss me, teeth gently grazing over the back of my neck as he switches sides. I moan as my head falls back to press against his bare shoulder, exposing more neck to the will of his lips. "I wish we _could_ stay like this forever," I manage to mumble as my eyes stutter closed and my hands tighten on his.

He nods into my shoulder, "so do I," he mumbles into my skin so quietly I'm not sure whether I really heard it. I continue to let him assault me skilfully with his lips and teeth and hands, until suddenly I feel one hand drop from my own to trail quickly over my hip and down to my knee, before skimming slowly up the skin of my inner thigh, moving closer and closer to hem of my boxers, causing me to jump and my eyes to flash open. The kisses stop. He senses my body tense and as quickly as it happened his hand is gone from my thigh, resting instead on his own as I feel his hair lift from my shoulder and his spine straighten.

The atmosphere has changed so suddenly, both of us wondering whether a line has been crossed, whether we've reacted wrongly, whether the other is mad, and then, as if our minds really are attuned to each other, we both open our lips and whisper an apology at exactly the same time. Causing us both to laugh lightly and visibly relax back into the shape of one another. I twist my body awkwardly to face him, kissing him gently. He smiles as I withdraw and carefully winds his arms back around me, returning to face forward. "We should get dressed," he says unenthusiastically as he makes no attempt to move.

I nod in agreement, also reluctant to move. We sit still and silent together for some time, his chest pressed against the curve of my spine, arms tight around me as his head rests against the top of my neck, warm breath skimming over my skin. Eventually I build up enough will power to tug my hands free of his before sliding them down either side of his legs to rest just above his knees. I lift them both gently and bend them, tucking them around my waist. I feel his smile press against my back as he locks his feet together and squeezes slightly, causing a laugh to ripple through my body. I then grab his hands and move them outwards and above my own, forcing them around my neck and pressing his hands together. "Hold," I tell him when he doesn't.

He grasps his hands together as I feel his cheek lift off my skin, jaw slackening before he speaks, "Blaine, what're you-" but before he has the chance to finish his sentence I've forced my hands beneath his thighs, jumping him up slightly against my back as I slide to the edge of the sofa. Then, with all the strength I can gather I force myself upright, tensing my legs and straightening my back as his words muffle into a half-scream, half-laugh as his legs and arms tighten instinctively around me, his smile pressing into my neck as he buries his face in my hair.

I then begin to walk towards his bedroom as his carefree laughter continues to swim around my mind, his limbs clinging to me like a lifeline. I kick the door open and stroll in, my grip on him loosening as I wait for him to drop. But he doesn't. His arms and legs and happiness remain wrapped around me, tight enough to never let me slip away. "Kurt," I whine, elongating that one syllable as my back begins to ache and I run my hands up the length of his lean legs. I feel his grip loosen yet his body presses closer, hands falling apart to press his palms against my chest as his lips fall against my neck in a kiss. I make my way over to his bed as he continues to suck my skin between his teeth, and lean to the side over it, shuffling slightly as I begin to speak, eventually he slowly slides off me, "I've never known you so…" I pause, wanting to say 'horny' but not wanting to seem presumptuous as I straighten up and look at him. He smirks, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking as his fingers reach out and tangle with my own, pulling me towards him, into the space between his thighs, "…affectionate," I eventually settle on, grinning down at him as his lips press wetly against my bare stomach.

"Can you... blame me?" he asks rhetorically between kisses as his hands graze my hip bones, skimming around to my lower back and dipping to brush fleetingly over my ass before stopping, tightening his hold on the back of my thighs.

I chuckle lightly in an attempt to hide the knot which is forming in my stomach as I slowly wriggle out of his grasp. I move quickly towards my still open suitcase without looking at him. As I lean down to rummage through my clothes for something clean, I feel my skin burning under the intensity of his eyes. Because I'm sure he's watching me with a frown, and with that knowledge I feel hot blood race up my chest and neck, tinting my ears red as I wait for the question.

Eventually it comes, just as I knew it would, "why do you shy away when I touch you?" he asks, voice sounding more inquisitive than hurt or angry, which considerably calms my heart which has begun to race.

"You've been touching me all morning," I respond in a weak attempt to avoid this conversation, but my voice is far too high to sound natural and I still haven't looked at him, instead remaining knelt beside my suitcase which I'm no longer even pretending to search through.

"You know that's not what I mean," he replies, an edge to his voice as he waits for the real answer.

I sigh as I stand and turn to face him, pulling on the first t-shirt I can lay my hands on in a feeble attempt to shield myself from him. But it doesn't work. I can still see anger written across his face, hurt shining in his eyes, embarrassment evident in the way he's curled in on himself; hands clasped tightly between knees, head bowed in question. "I just…" I begin as my mind searches for the right words to express the mixture of emotions racing through me; need and want and lust and desire, all very human and all very expected given situation, but beneath those is another layer of emotions. A layer which runs deeper than just the skin he can touch and the blood he can make pump, something which has rooted itself deep in my bones and heart, something which makes me suppress all the other emotions in the hope that this time, we can do it right. That emotion is love. "I just want us to do this properly," I finally say in a whisper as I move closer to him.

His head slowly rises as a frown creases his face. "I don't know what you mean," he eventually says, voice slow and quiet; unsure.

"What I mean is…" I sigh deeply as I sit heavily beside him, tugging his hand from between his knees to interweave it with both of my own. I look into his face and see a confused and expectant expression looking back; his eyes have dulled. "I want us to have a 'first date'," I say with a small smile as I raise our joint hands to my lips, pressing a kiss against the knuckle of his ring finger before letting them drop back to rest on my lap. His frown begins to lift and is replaced with a relieved smile as I continue to talk. "I want us to feel that electricity when our legs bump together under the table. I want us to smile and laugh at stories of each others lives. I want us to go on a second date and I want us to learn each others favourite colours and I want to ring you on your lunch break and arrange a coffee date after work. I want us to be excited to see each other and look forward to time alone. I want us to have those awkward moments of uncertainty and blissful moments of shared understanding. I want us to have all those exciting thrilling moments of a new romance. I-" My speech falters as I clear my throat and my mind, "I don't want us to just fall into how we were, because that's not who we are anymore… If we're going to do this, I want us to do it for real and make it last."

His expression seems torn between a smile and a frown, lips curled upwards at the edges but his brow slightly wrinkled. I stroke small circles into his palm with my thumb as I wait patiently for a response, which eventually comes after what feels like the longest minute of my life. "Can't we just…" he trails off, tongue darting out to lick his lips quickly before swallowing. He seems to be thinking very carefully about his choice of words, causing my curiosity to peak before he begins his sentence again. "Can't we just, be like one of those adorable couples who've been together since they're like, 16, and know each other better than they know themselves?" he asks with a hopeful smile and childlike tilt of his head.

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out, instead the breath which I haven't realise I've been holding escapes my lips with a whoosh as my eyes squint slightly into his face, trying to gauge how serious he is. I finally realise he's completely serious, causing a peculiar anger to begin to bubble in my chest. "But… we're _not_ one of those 'adorable couples' who've been together since they're 16…" I falter slightly as disbelief washes over me. "Yeah, we dated when we were 16… but, that doesn't mean we're the same as we were then," I say slowly as my mind tries to catch up with my lips.

"We're not _that_ different," he says with a light laugh.

"Yes, we are," I affirm forcefully, "Kurt, that was _eight years ago_," I stress the words, hoping to convey their importance to him. "We're _completely_different. We live not only in a different state, but in a different country, on a different _continent_. We don't go to high school anymore… we have jobs, and mortgages and bills to pay. _I have a daughter_." I can't believe what I'm hearing from him, how can he be so naïve? "I can't just fall back into how we were because I'm no longer that person," I finally say, hoping he'll realise how ridiculous he's being.

"I think you're overreacting. I really don't think we've changed all the much," he's smiling and shaking his head as he edges closer to me, but I move away, keeping the distance between us reasonable as my grip on his hand loosens.

"What's my favourite book then?" I ask trivially, to which his eyebrows shoot up before he responds surprising quickly.

"T-To Kill a Mocking Bird," he stutters slightly.

"Nope. Brave New World, and it has been for the last two years. To Kill a Mockingbird hasn't been my favourite since I started college," I confirm for him, causing a look of fright to pass briefly across his face.

"Where do I dream about visiting one day?" I ask quickly, causing his eyes to dart up to look into my own.

"Rome?" he answers with where the 17 year old version of me had dreamt of visiting, although it sounds much more like a question. I smile sadly at him.

"Fiji Islands," he looks away, a small 'oh' escaping his lips before I continue to speak, "and these are just silly trivial things which hardly even matter. There's eight years of each others lives which we know little to nothing about. Those years will have changed us and shaped the person we are now, you can't just skim over that like it's unimportant. I want to _know_you Kurt, everything about you, and vice versa."

He nods slowly and slides his hands out of mine before raising them to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I'm sorry," he eventually says, turning to look into my eyes, and I can see that he understands what I mean. "You're right. I just feel like I've spent so much time… waiting, I guess I thought we'd just… fall into old routines," he's shaking his head, a dejected smile painted on his face as his eyes blink rapidly, and I can see he's holding back tears.

"Kurt," I groan, placing my hand under his chin to tip his face up to look at me, but he just rolls his neck, leaving my hand raised in front of him. I sigh and slide from the bed to kneel in front of him, elbows resting atop his knees as I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. And when he does my insides crumple, he looks hurt, lost, demoralized; broken. His grey eyes sparkle with tears instead of happiness, blinking rapidly as he tries to force them down. I softly sweep my thumbs over his eyelids, and I feel as he sniffles slightly and swallows. I notice his hands are shaking where they rest before I kneel up slightly, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of each eye, removing the small tears which have formed there before pressing my forehead against his. Just before my own eyes open I feel his hands wrap gently around my forearms, squeezing lightly as if in thanks, a few seconds pass before his eyes flutter open and lock instantly on mine; waiting.

"That's the thing," I eventually say with a hopeful smile as I run my hands down his cheeks to rest them either side of his neck, I can feel blood pumping furiously beneath his pale skin, contrasting greatly with his still exterior, "I don't want our old routines… I want us to make new ones."


	18. Chapter XVIII

Friday 2nd August 2019

**Kurt**

Blaine left to pick up Ava not long after our conversation, and although we didn't spend the day together in person, we did spend the majority of it talking on the phone to each other. I listened as he refilled his washing machine with clothes from their holiday, for what he claimed was the fourth time, while he listened to my frantic typing as I tried to catch up on the work I'd missed out on Saturday by going home early. I spoke to Ava who happily described every detail of her friend's sleepover while in the background the dim whirring of a hoover could be heard. We said our goodbyes before dinner, and although we didn't arrange when we'd next see each other I'm not worried, no doubt one of us will find an excuse to call the other or turn up at their home unexpectedly. We always do.

So my new found calmness regarding Blaine is why five days later I'm suddenly able to become very distracted by work, mainly because I'm no longer fretting about what we are to each other or over analysing every word he says. And distracted by my work is exactly what I am as I walk out of work in search of lunch this afternoon, a cup of coffee in one hand, phone in the other as I flick through some pictures I've been sent of outfits for the upcoming London Fashion Week. I meander rather skilfully through crowds of people without once having to raise my eyes from my phone, until I feel a body crash into me.

The smaller mans shoulder hits my own, causing my bag to slip and fall into the crook of my elbow, which in turn causes a small splash of hot coffee to spill over the edge and burn my hand. I stumble under the weight and fall slightly towards him as I gasp in pain, his hands reach out instinctively to steady me as he apologises, "Oh god, I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm so sorry."

My head snaps up as I recognise the voice, only to be met by Blaine's face, a concerned expression creasing his features as he pulls a tissue from his pocket and begins drying my hand. I smile joyfully at him as I force my phone into my pocket, realigning my bag on my shoulder, the mild burn on my hand completely forgotten. "Blaine, what're you d-" I begin, but am soon cut off as he speaks over me, both of us being jostled slightly as the crowd around us continues to move.

"I can't believe I just did that. I such an idiot, I'm _so_ sorry," he carries on apologising before finally looking into my face, but in his eyes I see no flash of recognition or happiness at bumping into me. Instead I see an apology and embarrassment. "Did I burn you?" he questions, glancing down at my slightly red hand before holding it delicately in his own to examine it.

My mouth opens to respond but no sound comes out as I stare disbelievingly into his eyes. I blink and slowly shut my mouth, licking my dry lips as I shake my head before answering. "No you… you didn't burn me," my speech falters as my mind tries to understand what's happening. Why is he acting like we don't know each other? "Blaine, are you okay?" I ask as a tiny part of me begins to question his sanity.

"I feel awful," he says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks back up into my face. "And I've spilt half your coffee," he adds with a shake of his head and a sad smile. "How can I make it up to you?" he eventually asks, eyes locking on mine, and for the first time since he bumped into me I see the smallest, hardly noticeable gleam in his eyes, evident behind the worry still written across his face.

"What? You don't have to 'make it up to me'," I say with a half-laugh, half-snort, hoping to steer this conversation in a more normal direction. "I think you're over reacting to a little coffee burn. And why are you acting as if you don't know me!" I ask, my voice rising in disbelief, frustration and amusement as I continue to smile in confusion as he stares up at me, eyebrows knitted together in distress.

"Let me take you to dinner," he suddenly offers, face lighting up like a child's at Christmas. "I'll even let you spill a drink on me," he offers with a slightly flirtatious grin.

"Blaine, I don't understand!" I whine slightly with a wide grin plastered across my face, shaking my head slightly.

"Say yes," he whispers to me, a huge smile plastered across his face as he waits expectantly, still offering no explanation for his peculiar behaviour.

"I…" I trail off, confused beyond belief by what's happening, but his eyebrows arc hopefully as I open my mouth, and I can see he's pleading with his best puppy dog eyes, so I give in to what is possibly the weirdest conversation we've ever shared. "Yes, okay," I say hesitantly, wondering what the point of all of this is.

"That's great!" He beams, eyes shining with happiness. And I can't help but grin back, despite the confusion still trickling through me. "How about tonight? I'll pick you up at eight?" he asks, still acting like we've just met.

"Erm… okay?" I say, voice getting slightly higher at the end as if it's a question. We then stand in silence for an awkward second, me understanding no more than I have from the beginning while he continues to grin happily.

"Here," he says, taking my free hand which had previously held my phone, "if I give you my number, you can text me your address," he says with a fleeting smile. My mouth drops open in bewilderment as my head falls to the side, eyes squinting unintentionally as I analyse him, hoping to stumble across what he's up to. But his hands are warm against my skin and distracting as they grip tightly. He pulls a pen from his bag and begins to scribble gently on the back of my hand. My mind shoots back to months ago when I'd scribbled my number on his hand, suddenly I begin to understand what he's doing. A small smile of realisation creeps across my face as he pops the lid back on the pen and looks up at me.

He grins back and recognises that I've finally realised what he's doing. "Thanks," I whisper as I glance down and see his familiar number scrawled in black ink across my pale skin. "I'll erm…" I cough lightly to clear my throat as we continue to grin like idiots at each other, "see you tonight I guess," I say with a smile.

"It's a date," he chuckles as he angles himself to walk away, before leaning up and whispering into my ear, "some might call it a first date," his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of my neck and causes a shiver to run down my spine as a light chuckle escapes my lips. He winks teasingly as he leans back down and turns to walk away. I watch in stunned silence as he saunters away, arms swinging cheerfully as his slim hips rock slightly. Slowly he blends into the sea of people, and then disappears from view.

I laugh quietly to myself before turning back in the direction I was heading and beginning to walk. I dump my now cold coffee in a bin before pulling my phone from my pocket, opening up a new message and typing in Blaine's name. I smile secretly at the blank message for a moment as I try to think of what to say, then suddenly I feel a strong hand grip my bicep, pulling me back forcefully. I stumble over my own feet before colliding heavily with another body. I turn swiftly to see who's grabbed me, but suddenly my face is filled with Blaine's; again.

His eyes are dancing as he steps forward, winding his arms around my waist. I laugh and grin down at him before resting my half occupied hands against his forearms where they press against my sides, trying to pull them from around me. "Blaine," I whisper nervously through a laugh as I glance pointedly at the large swarms of people passing us by.

But he just smiles, understanding immediately what I mean. "No one cares," he tells me with one of the most relaxed smiles I've ever seen, before slowly raising himself onto his tiptoes and pressing his lips to mine. I grin unashamedly into the kiss as I wind my own arms around his neck, phone in hand as I pull him closer, a shared smile passing between our joint lips. We both pull back at the same moment and contently press our foreheads together, both smiling widely as we revel in the fact that hundreds of people are walking around us, bodies sweeping close enough to graze the edges of our twined bodies, and no one even looks twice or blinks an eye. There's no intentional shoves or harsh names slung our way. We're just like any other couple.

/

The rest of the day passes quickly in a haze of smiles and anticipation. More than once someone comments on my happier than usual mood and the fact that I'm randomly smiling for no reason. So that's why when a group of us are gathered around a table examining various pictures and fabrics, someone dares to ask what everyone else is itching to know.

In my mind I'm just reliving the 'accidental' meeting from earlier, remembering Blaine's contagious smile and the shine in his eyes, the way his arms fit tight around me and the fact he had to tiptoe to kiss me. It's the tiptoeing which tips me over the edge, causing a small, hardly stifled giggle to break free of my lips mid way through someone's speech about accessories. I see as all the eyes in the room dart up to look at me, and under the intense gaze of so many people I feel a blush flare over my cheeks.

"Sorry," I mumble under my breath, hoping everyone will just ignore me. But they've been ignoring my occasional smiles and unexplained laughter all afternoon, and apparently this final one has grasped their curiosity more than the others.

"Okay," Laura finally sighs, ending her accessories speech mid flow to interrogate me instead. My head snaps up to look at her just in time to see everyone else in the room turn to face her. I notice that she's smiling inquisitively at me, causing my insides to squirm as I realise I'm about to be questioned by the dozen people sat in front of me. "What's going on Kurt?" she questions, and I can hear the playfulness in her voice mingling with the slight frustration at being unable to think of an explanation.

"Nothing," I reply with a shrug, hoping to appear calm and relaxed when really my insides are twisting as I wait for the onslaught from my many nosey and gossipy work friends. The eyebrows of the 12 people assembled in front of me rise in unison in silent disbelief.

There's a moment's silence, them waiting for me to hopefully explain while I internally beg for them to drop it. But they don't. "Seriously, ever since you got back from lunch you've had the biggest, dopiest grin on your face! And now you're giggling like a school girl the day before prom!" Laura elaborates as a smile breaks across her face. A few people nod in agreement and smile in return, all still staring at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I feign ignorance as I avert my gaze to the pictures in front of me, rearranging them absentmindedly to hopefully draw everyone's attention back to the job at hand.

"Is this to do with that hot, curly haired guy who came up here last Saturday?" Someone has the audacity to ask, causing my head to snap up as I search for the voice in question. It's Rae, a small Chinese girl who occasionally reminds me of my high school friend Tina. She too always wears different colours in her hair, shades of pink one day while the next day it might be blonde. Although unlike Tina she wears her hair short, cut into a sharp pixie cut just above her ears.

"I-" I stammer, brain working furiously to try and change the subject, although out of the corner of my eye I can't help but notice George visibly tense at the mention of Blaine, his hands stilling on the arm rest of his chair as his shoulders hunch slightly. "Erm, wait, what?" I ask, my mind going completely blank as it try to interpret George's reaction. "No. No- nothing to with B- just- no!" I finally respond as I a fiery blush works even further up my face and down my neck. My ears begin to burn as I glance from one person to the next, all of them with raised eyebrows and sceptical smiles. All apart from George, who sits stock still, facing dead ahead, not even turning his head to glance at me. "It's nothing to do with- with_him_" I finally say, shaking my head for emphasise. "Can we just…" I trail off as I motion to the table of pictures in front of us, averting my gaze from all of theirs.

"No way!" Rae exclaims, unwilling to let the subject drop before she gets all the gossip. "It _is_to do with him! God Kurt, I've never seen you so flustered! Or blush so much," she says through a laugh, causing a few people to join in as I feel my cheeks flame again. I laugh sarcastically in response without looking up, praying that this will end here. But it doesn't. "Is tonight date night?" she coos, reaching out to pinch my cheek teasingly. I slap her hand away but am unable to suppress the small smile which curls my lips, because it actually _is_date night; finally. Everyone begins to laugh as I struggle to hide my now very obvious smile, and I hate myself for not being able to control my own stupid face and for blushing so readily and for being so easy to read. However, even through my embarrassment and the laughter swirling around me, I don't miss the fact that George hasn't even cracked a smile, let alone laughed.

"Ha ha ha," I mock laugh, looking back into the eyes of my colleagues with a blank face and steely eyes. "You're all very hilarious and original and I can hardly control my laughter, but I would actually like to finish this tonight," I tell them, trying hard to keep my voice even and my skin a normal colour while my mouth fights to form a smile, insides soaring at the thought of actually going on a _date_with _Blaine._ Deep down I know they're just teasing and being nosey like friends are, and really it's quite obvious they're more than pleased for me to be happy and giggly instead of irritable and high strung, and if it hadn't been for the unusual reaction from George, I probably would play along for a while. But I can sense it's bothering him, and although he's probably my least favourite person in the room, he's still Blaine's ex, and I have no idea what happened between them or how much this could be hurting him. So I decide to try and steer the group back to finalising some ideas. It works initially, until one particularly brave guy pipes up from the back.

"You have been a bit stressed just lately Hummel… I bet a good fuck would loosen you up!" the voice shouts, causing my head to shoot up and my mouth to drop open in shock as everyone's gaze turns to focus on me, awaiting my reaction. But before I can even form a coherent response, let alone something witty and scathing, the guy, John, speaks again, "oh wait, that's your plan for tonight isn't it?" he asks rhetorically.

Everyone bursts into laughter as I once again flame a bright, burning red. My mind is furiously trying to think of a comeback but is failing miserably, so instead I duck my head to the table to hide my smirk as I'm bombarded with images and thoughts of Blaine. His body hovering above my own, strong arms tensed either side of my head, hair falling into his face, dampened by sweat which gleams on every inch of his beautiful, tanned skin. The feel of strong hands on my hips, of him inside me, of his hungry lips falling against my burning skin. The look in his lust blown eyes and the small moans he used to make.

Somewhere in the back of my mind there is a voice screaming at me, telling me to reply, to rip into him, to get my revenge, but I just can't. I can't stop imagining Blaine doing everything I've been dreaming about for months but have never allowed myself to dwell on for more than a few seconds. Then suddenly I'm brought back to reality as the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor breaks through the loud laughter. I glance up in time to see the door swing shut, and looking at the faces gathered in front of me I notice George is no longer here.

I stand up silently and slip out of the room, my departure going completely unnoticed as they continue to laugh and joke. Pulling the door shut behind myself I glance up and down the empty corridor, before looking at my watch. It's just gone five o'clock, so most people have left, I realise. It's then that I notice movement at one end of the corridor, and squinting I see a body move from the coffee machine to stand by the window. I turn and begin to walk towards George, hoping he'll hear me coming and won't be startled. I reach the end of the corridor and shiver at the eeriness of the empty and quiet office space, still brightly lit from all the windows but shockingly dull without the usual shouting and rushing of people.

I move silently to stand beside him at the window, looking out over London which heaves as literally millions of people race through their lives. He doesn't respond to me stopping beside him, but he knows I'm here. Instead we stand in silence, him occasionally sipping from his mug as both of our eyes remain trained on the world outside our own.

"Are you… okay?" I ask awkwardly after a minute, hating the thought of making him uncomfortable but feeling the overwhelming need to ask.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He responds coldly, placing his empty mug on the window sill. I turn to look at him properly, but his face is unreadable as he continues to stare forward, looking out the window but evidently not focusing on anything. I shrug noncommittally, not wanting to be the one to bring up Blaine, yet still hoping that he will, because I'm sure that's what this is about, what else could it be? A few more minutes pass in uncomfortable silence, until eventually he breaks it, "So… you and Blaine?" he says, although it sounds more like a question. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye I see him bite his lip, awaiting my response.

"It's not like that," I tell him, which is half true considering even Blaine and I haven't explicitly had this conversation. Although I think that's mainly because neither of us feel the need; we both know where we're heading.

"What is it like then?" he asks, breaking me from my reverie. I turn to face into the office, leaning my back against the window as I take in his tense stance and the way his hands are balled into fists against his thighs.

"Its…" I begin as I searched for the correct word, "complicated," I settle on truthfully, hoping he won't ask anything further.

He doesn't. Instead he sighs wistfully and bows his head, pressing his forehead slightly against the glass as his hands un-ball and rest flat against the window sill. I wait for him to speak, watching carefully as his eyelids close slowly and his lips turn into a small frown. "It always is with Blaine," he finally says. My curiosity jumps as I struggle to stop myself from prying. It's none of my business, just like my relationship with Blaine is none of his.

Once again we're engulfed in silence. My mind overwhelmed with questions, just as his no doubt is, yet neither of us have the courage to ask, nor the courage to answer without being asked. Eventually the bubble of silence we've both become lost in is broken by a shout of our names from down the corridor. "Down here," I shout back, before hearing the sound of someone approaching.

Laura appears from the corridor and frowns slightly at us both, George still stood staring out of the window while I stand staring at her. "We're going now, figured we'd just sort the last of it out tomorrow morning," she tells us with a smile.

"Okay," I respond with a half-hearted smile. "See you tomorrow," I promise her, before George turns and also said goodnight, after which she leaves, but not before throwing one final, inquisitive glance our way. Once the sound of her heels has completely disappeared, George turns to face me, and I'm slightly startled by how very tall he is.

"I er, guess I'll see you tomorrow," he murmurs as he buries his hands into his pockets and avoids eye contact.

"Erm, yeah sure," I agree, smiling up at him slightly.

He smiles back down before speaking again, "well, have a good night I guess," he says with a sad look in his eyes, before walking by me swiftly and disappearing down the corridor towards the stairs.

I sigh tiredly into the empty room as I turn to look back out of the window. I watch in silence as a large group of birds suddenly soar into the sky from the direction of Hyde Park. They fly high into the sky, black specks against the blue backdrop, all in synch as they soar higher and higher, before all dropping dramatically and disappearing into the treetops above the park, as if all being controlled by one being. I glance down at the crowds of people rushing through their lives and realise with an odd sense of insignificance that as soon as I leave this building, I become just another person in that massive crowd, just another top of a head to anyone looking down at them, just another tiny irrelevant person on a planet of seven billion.

I frown as I turn and head out of the office, down the stairs and out of the building, instantly becoming immersed in the crowd only moments ago I was watching from above. How has my mood so dramatically changed? Not so long ago I was joking with work friends and giggling into my hand at the memory of strong arms around my waist, and now? Now I'm walking home, my head bent into the crowd as my mind tries to sort what really matters in life, from all the stuff that doesn't matter at all.

I get home in record time, having practically power walked the entire journey. My mood is still somewhat solemn as I turn onto my street and with my head still bent I climb the couple steps to my front door. Then I stop. Outside my front door, on the mat, in a thin, elegant glass vase, sits one long, red rose. I smile widely as I glance up and down the road, searching for dark, curly hair or a familiar walk, but the street is surprisingly empty and quiet. Still grinning I lean down and pick the vase up before gently lifting the flower to my nose. I inhale deeply, delicate petals tickling my nose as their scent washes over me. My eyes close as my smile widens and my mood once again soars.

Eventually I unlock the door and let myself in. Before closing the door I search the road hopefully one final time before accepting defeat, pushing it shut, the widest grin possible still plastered across my face as my insides begin to do somersaults and my heart pounds. I really am acting like a girl before prom, but admittedly, that's exactly how I feel.


	19. Chapter XIX

**A/N: Hi! Just wanted to say, the restaurant I've wrote about I've never been to... a friend went and told me all about it and it sounded amazing! So, it being the only knowledge I have on London restaurants I figured I'd go with it, so if anyone's been and it's wildly unlike the real place, I apologise. **

Friday 2ndAugust 2019(Continued)

**Blaine**

I feel my heart beat speed up slightly as I dash up the few steps to Kurt's, stopping in front of the shining, black door and glancing at my watch. Just on time I realise with a smile as I knock an irregular rhythm onto the wood, the beat strangely similar to that of my heart; quick and out of sequence. There's a commotion on the other side; I can hear Kurt's voice clearly, while whoever he's talking too seems to be silent. Then suddenly the door swings open and there's Kurt, a wide, genuine smile lighting up his face, beckoning for me to enter. As I do so I notice he's holding his phone to his ear, and a familiar voice can be heard from down the line. "Who is it?" I mouth with a nod towards the phone.

"Dad," he mouths back with a roll of his eyes as he pushes the door shut. I laugh at his reaction and he laughs back, before abruptly stopping. "No I wasn't laughing at you," he groans down the line, smile dropping from his face. "Something else," he tells his dad as he shakes his head at me in disbelief. The conversation has obviously been long and less than cheerful.

I try my hardest to stifle my laughter and divert my attention from the look of annoyance on his face. Instead I allow my eyes to roam over his body, probably not as discretely as I'd've hoped. He's wearing devastatingly skinny black trousers wrapped around his long legs, a tight, faded red t-shirt clings to his chest, showing off the definition beautifully. The thin fabric is tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and my mouth drops open an inch as I take in his slightly protruding hip bones which entrance me, their obvious solidity contrasting with the softness of his slim waist. I have to physically stop myself from reaching out and grazing my thumb over the sharp bone as he walks past me.

"Dad I'm sorry, but I really have to go," he says as he walks into his bedroom. I follow after him, revelling in the gentle sway of his hips and how well his clothes fit, like a second skin stretched taut over muscle and bone. I lean in the doorway, watching with eager eyes as he slips a black blazer from a coat hanger and shrugs it on. "No I- no… I'm serious!" He tells his dad as he stands in front of his mirror and straightens the collar.

Suddenly a thought strikes me; does Burt know? And if so, how much? I frown at the thought, unsure of how much Kurt will, or won't, have told him. And will he tell him now, with me stood in hearing distance? I imagine Burt sat at home thousands of miles away, probably perched on the arm rest of the sofa as I'd so often seen him years ago. I wonder reminiscently whether there's a game on in the background, and where Carole is. How will Burt react when he does find out? I suppose that all depends on what he knows of why we broke up in the first place; how much Kurt's told him.

Kurt's impatient voice brings me back to reality. "Because I have a date," he says seriously before catching my eye in the mirror and smirking shyly, a hint of red staining his perfect skin. He then moves to open his wardrobe door and pulls out a pair of highly polished black boots. "With a guy… who d'you think!" he replies irritably as he sits on his bed. He leans down and quickly unlaces the boots with one hand as he listens to his father's voice, the look on his face becoming harder and harder to read.

Then unexpectedly he looks up at me, eyes locking on mine powerfully, and I can't quite name the emotions flashing across his face. A strange mix between determination and an apology. "You don't need to know his name…" he half-mumbles down the line as he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to lace his boots. So he hasn't told him. _Interesting,_I think as I watch his pale hands move swiftly as they knot his shoes. An unexpected stab of pain shoots through my chest as I wonder why he hasn't told Burt.

Then he sits up straight, eyes once again finding mine. However this time the apology in them is obvious, which cushions the pain slightly. But we both know that this is the moment. He's going to have to tell Burt, it makes sense to just get it over with, but that doesn't make it any easier. I can distantly hear the sound of Burt's voice, tinny and hollow yet still strangely frightening as I recognise the anger building behind his unanswered questions. Finally Kurt gives in and responds with one word, "Blaine," he whispers, averting his gaze as if the mere mention of my name is a sin.

Then there is the briefest silence, thick with anticipation and hesitation before Burt replies, and even I hear his question this time. "Last name?" he asks, voice feigning calmness yet exuding rage into those two simple words.

Kurt frowns and bites his lip, looking up at me before answering almost silently, "Anderson." But it's loud enough for Burt to hear, I'm sure of it. And yet the silence remains, the tension building, before terrifying shouting erupts from the phone, causing both me and Kurt to jump and him to physically hold the phone away from his ear. Burt can be heard loud and clear, anger and disgust reaching us from across the ocean.

"This had better be a fucking joke Kurt, because if it isn't I'm coming straight to London and bringing you home. God dammit! I can not _believe_you. _What are you thinking?_Going on a _date_with _him_of all people. Jesus Christ son, have you got no self respect… _Why is he even in London!_ I don't think I've _ever_ been this fucking angry with you Kurt, I'm absolutely _livid!_" He continues to yell, not giving Kurt a second to try and explain. But Kurt doesn't even try; instead he just continues to hold the phone at arms length as he looks at me longingly, an apology shining in his eyes. I smile feebly back, because quite honestly I'm shocked by Burt's reaction. I don't think I once heard him swear in all the time I dated Kurt, and especially not _at_Kurt. And even more so than that, what has Kurt told him to make him hate me so much? Because his feelings for me are quite obvious; each sentence weaved with disgust, words laced with anger, syllables dripping with hatred.

"Dad?" Kurt questions shockingly calmly into the phone. Burt doesn't respond, instead he continues to shout, and I don't miss as Kurt's fingers press over the volume button, thankfully turning it too low for me to distinguish each word. He repeats his call of 'dad?' a dozen times as Burt continues to shout, before Kurt completely loses his temper.

"For god's sake! Will you just _listen_!" he yells, making me jump in surprise. But the shouting from the other side stops abruptly, allowing Kurt to finally talk. "Look dad, I'm sorry that you found out like this, but yes, it's _that_Blaine. And _yes_ he lives in London now, _yes_ I'm going on a date with him. N_o_, I'm not going to _not_go because _you're_ still mad at him, even after I've told you _hundreds_ of times that what happened was _my_fault. Now, goodbye," then he hangs up, leaving no time for his father to reply.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He throws his phone onto his bed beside him before rubbing tiredly at his eyes, he then looks up at and I can see sorrow in his eyes, an apology on the tip of his tongue, so I smile reassuringly, hopefully showing that it's no big deal, but he still apologises.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head as I walk over, extending my arms to him, he slides his soft hands into mine and allows me to pull him up. "It's fine," I tell him truthfully as I drop his hands, winding them around his waist beneath his blazer, dropping my head to burrow into his shoulder. I inhale the clean smell of his clothing and the sweet smell of his cologne. I feel him relax in my arms as he shuffles closer, fitting himself perfectly against my body as a sigh whispers over my skin.

"I should have told him before, but I just-"

"You don't have to justify it to me Kurt, he's _your_ dad. You can tell him as much or as little as you like."

"I know I just- I don't know. I just didn't tell him before because… well because _I_didn't know. I mean, we could have just stayed friends, and then, well, there would've been no reason to tell him. But I can't really avoid it anymore I guess… and-"

I laugh as he rambles; stepping back I lift one hand to cover his mouth, stopping him mid sentence. "It's fine," I assure him again, because it really is. I watch as his eyes crinkle and a smile forms beneath my hand. I smile back and begin to pull my hand away, but not before he leans forward and presses a delicate kiss on the palm, causing an odd shiver to run up my arm. "You look gorgeous by the way," I tell him as my eyes once again rack up and down his slender body, taking in the many curves and sharp edges hidden beneath soft but thin fabric.

An almost unnoticeable blush colours his cheeks as he grins. "You don't look half bad yourself," he replies as a shaking fingertip ghosts over the exposed flesh of my collarbone, along the hem of my shirt. I gulp audibly before my mouth drops open in a sigh. He smirks flirtatiously before continuing to trace down my chest, skin burning under his touch as he weaves between buttons. And then his touch is gone, disappearing at the waistband of my trousers and leaving in its wake a burning ache so strong I'm scared it might scar.

For a second I'm stunned, completely overwhelmed by his smell, the way he touches me and how he looks that the only thought racing through my mind is of pushing him back until his knees collide with his bed and he falls back. All I can think about is crawling on top of him, forcing my hands beneath that red fabric and peeling it from his skin. All I can hear are his small sighs and moans and all I can feel is his soft skin and the curve of his spine, all I see is his beautiful, stunning, perfect, oh so perfect body quivering beneath me.

"Close your mouth honey, you're drooling," he whispers in my ear before stalking past me and out of the bedroom, out of sight. Slowly I come back to consciousness and manage to close my mouth, refocusing my eyes before following the direction I'm sure he went. I turn into the hall and with a small smile notice the rose I left for him sat on top of his hall table. Grinning I feel a warm, summer breeze skim over me before I see him, stood in the open doorway waiting for me. He smiles and I blush, knowing he knows exactly what I'd been thinking moments ago. _He's such a tease,_ I think as I make my way towards him, pulling the door shut behind us with maybe a little too much force.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted the 'first date'! Don't take it out on my door," he chastises with a playful smile. I glare at him teasingly as we begin to walk. "I'm only joking you know?" he affirms after I don't reply. I glance at him, wondering what he means before he continues, "I mean, I agree. We need to do this… properly, like you said," I grin at him, thankful that he agrees before closing the small space between us and lacing our hands together. I feel him squeeze slightly before our feet fall into step together.

As we continue to walk I struggle to wipe the grin off my face, and more so than that I struggle to stop myself glancing at him out of the corner of my eyes every ten seconds, just to make sure he's real. But he is. I can feel the warmth and softness of his hand in mine, the gentle rhythm we've fallen into together. I can feel the way my heart seems to tug slightly in his direction, as if the universe has shifted, making him my centre of gravity, giving me no choice but to be pulled towards him.

"Where are we going anyway?" he asks after a few minutes silence, glancing down at me.

"Oh I er, made reservations at this restaurant," I tell him mysteriously, purposely leaving out any details.

I see him glare slightly at me out of the corner of my eye and I'm sure he hasn't missed the less than obvious way I've failed to mention a restaurant name. "M'kay," he eventually says, the first syllable stretching on as he tries to decipher my facial expression, which I'm working hard at keeping unreadable. "Do I get to know the name of this restaurant?" he asks as we turn onto the main road.

"Nope," I reply with a smirk as I hail a taxi. He sticks his bottom lip out playfully, but I just shake my head and continue to smirk, causing him to huff adorably as he slides into the back of the cab. I slip in next to him and laugh at his endearing sulking before leaning over and whispering the address to the driver. He pulls away from the curb as I sit back in my seat. I can feel Kurt's eyes on me but remain staring resolutely ahead, unwilling to give in to his childish behaviour. He quickly gets bored as I knew he would and slides his hand into mine where it rests on the seat. I turn and grin broadly at him as his thumb trails up and down the side of my index finger, making my entire body shiver.

"Tell me?" He coos, looking at me with wide eyes from beneath long eyelashes. I laugh and shake my head. "Why not?" he whines.

"Because it's a surprise," I tease back. He sighs dramatically and looks out the window moodily. But I know he's only messing and that he secretly loves surprises. I continue to smile as my eyes roam down the column of his neck, over the tendons stretched tightly, along his broad shoulder and down his slender arm, before coming to rest on his pale hand. Fingers interlaced with my own, blue veins visible beneath the almost translucent skin.

The journey passes in a comfortable silence and before long we're stopping. Kurt cocks an eyebrow at me when the car comes to a halt, but I just continue to smirk as I pay the driver and we climb out. I walk round to the same side as him, smiling up at his suspicious expression as the taxi drives off. "You still haven't guessed?" I ask as I nod towards the building behind us. He frowns before glancing behind us at the London Hilton; I wait for realisation to hit as his eyes run up the full height of the building. Then slowly his jaw drops and his eyes widen as his head shoots round to look at me.

"No-fucking-way!" he whispers as he shakes his head at me, hand moving quickly to grasp my arm. He looks back up at the building with hopeful eyes, causing a grin to curl my lips as I take in his startled expression. "Galvin at Windows?" He asks as he looks back down at me, his grip on my arm tightening almost imperceptibly. His eyes are shining and only shine brighter when I nod. "But… how?" he asks as I pry his hand from my arm and lace it with my own. It takes him a moment to catch up and begin walking with me, but eventually he does, hand tightening on mine and cutting of the circulation as we enter the lobby and head towards the elevators. "Isn't there like, a three month waiting list for this place? Especially on a Friday night!" he whispers as we walk into the elevator.

I smile as I press for the 28th floor. "A friend from work's husband works here, I may have asked for a favour," I grin at him. He's smiling wider than I ever thought possible before stepping a little closer, hand dropping from mine to press against my chest while the other runs around to the nape of my neck. He pushes slightly until I'm pressed against the wall of the elevator. My breath hitches as I feel his body press against mine, one hand tugging at my hair as the other runs down my chest and around to the small of my back, pressing us even closer together as his face inches closer to mine. His eyes are locked on mine for a fraction of a second before both of us close the gap. Our eyelids flicker shut as our lips touch, first lightly with uncertainty before he adds more pressure, pushing me harder against the wall with his entire body as his tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip.

I moan into his mouth and feel him smirk against my lips, then suddenly he pulls away and I stumble forward slightly, not realising how much I was pressing myself to him until he's gone. A small, flirtatious grin falls across his face as he bites his lower lip just as the doors slides open. I laugh and raise a shaking hand to straighten my hair as we step out. "What was that for?" I asked teasingly as we approach the maître d'.

"Being adorably fucking sweet," he tells me in a whisper.

I stifle a laugh, causing the maître d' to raise an eyebrow suspiciously. "Anderson," I tell him, trying to keep my voice level.

"Anderson," he whispers as his eyes trail down the list in front of him. "Oh yes," he looks up with a wide grin and a discrete but meaningful glance in my direction. "Table for two?" he affirms, glancing between mine and Kurt's matching smiles.

"Uh huh," I reply, not trusting myself to form words as I return the smile. Kurt glanced quickly between the two of us, not having missed the silent communication between us.

"If you'd like to follow me," he says as he turns and walks into the restaurant. Kurt opens his mouth to speak but before he can I begin walking, following the maître d' as he weaves in and out of tables, forcing Kurt to follow silently. The room is still brightly lit by the evening sunlight which streams in through the large windows lining the walls. The floor and parts of the walls are dark wood, as are the chairs which contrast with the cream cushioning and table clothes. Atop each table sits a small vase with pretty flowers in.

Couples and groups of friends sit around tables, laughing loudly and drinking from sparkling glasses while the staff bustle around them, moving silently and skilfully between tables and chairs while still managing to smile and respond instantly to each customer. The bar is back lit beautifully, various bottles of wine and champagne and spirits shining in the light.

We're being led closer and closer to the window and eventually I see our table. With a smirk I duck my head back to look at Kurt. He's staring around in wonder, eyes roaming hungrily over every detail as he no doubt tries to take it all in at once. Finally we stop at our table, and it's just like I asked for. Right in front of the large window offering amazing, jaw dropping views of the city, secluded enough to not draw attention to us or for us to be surrounded by people, and lastly, most importantly, instead of the small vase of flowers there's a bouquet of long, red roses to match the one I'd left on his door step.

I hear Kurt gasp behind me and laugh in response before thanking the maître d', who himself smiles, wishing us an enjoyable night before departing with a promise that our waitress will be over shortly. I pull out my own seat and motion for Kurt to join me, but instead he just stares out of the window beside our table. "Kurt," I whisper, pulling him back to reality. He glances at me with a slightly dazed expression before realising what I'm doing. He moves to the other chair and sits down, still unable to drag his eyes away from the view.

"I can't believe this," he sighs after a few seconds.

"Can't believe what?" I ask surprised.

"This," he says, finally dragging his eyes from the window to focus on me instead, motioning between us with his hand. "I can't believe that I'm sat in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, in one of the fanciest restaurants in London… with you," he says with a wistful smile. I open my mouth to reply but he cuts in quickly, "And it's just so amazing, and beautiful, and romantic, and I-" he falters, glancing down at the table, his brow furrowing at he thought.

I reach my hands over the table to lace them around his, "What?" I ask concerned.

"I just can't believe this. It feels like… like I've been given a second chance, and I just-" he sighs heavily, eyes lifting from the table to look into my own. "I'm terrified of screwing this up again," he finally admits, and suddenly he looks decades older; tired and scared and alone. And I want nothing more than to reach over the table and kiss away his frown lines and fear, wipe away any doubts and indecisions. I want to make him smile until his cheeks ache, laugh until his stomach cramps and love until his heart swells to bursting.

"_We've_ 'been given a second chance'" I correct with a smile as I tighten my hold on his hands. He looks up with a small smile before I continue, "and we're not going to screw this up, okay? We're just not," his grin widens slightly. "You are far too precious and beautiful for me to ever let go again," I finally conclude. He continues to grin at me, blushing slightly, eyes sparkling in the dying evening sun, pale skin glowing with happiness.

"And you're far too perfect for me to ever not fight for," he responds, pulling one hand free from mine to wipe quickly at the corners of his eyes. I lift my hand, resting it delicately over his before forcing it back to the table and holding it in the same hand as his other. I then lift my free hand to skim my thumb beneath each eye, his eyelids flicker shut at my touch, thick eyelashes tickling my the tip of my thumb as I erase all evidence of tears.

Before long our waitress arrives, a tall woman with ebony skin and hair to match. She smiles at us before handing us a menu and offering to move the roses while we eat. As she does so we scan the menu which is full of beautiful sounding food. When she returns we order our food as well as a bottle of Rosé which she quickly brings over and pours for us. As she does so Kurt slips his blazer from his shoulders, hanging it over the back of his chair. "Would you like me to put that in our cloakroom?" she asks eyeing Kurt's jacket.

"Oh no it's fine," he assures her, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention to him anymore, her eyes locked on the blazer.

"Is that…" she mumbles, taking a step towards Kurt's chair. We both follow her line of sight with confused expressions. "Is that next season Hugo Boss?" she asks Kurt, her brow furrowing in confusion and astonishment.

But Kurt just grins up at her and nods, "Yeah."

"How!" she asks astonished.

"Just, friends in high places I suppose," Kurt replies with a shrug, obviously enjoying the attention his beautiful clothes draw.

"I'd say," she laughs before continuing to pour our drinks, "It's beautiful," she tells him. I smile as I watch them chat for a minute, exchanging fashion tastes and discussing the upcoming fashion week in London. I listen in patient silence, not understanding half of what they're saying. "I'll leave you to enjoy your night now," she says through another laugh, "Sorry for being nosey," she smiles, resting her hand on Kurt's shoulder briefly before walking away.

"She was nice," Kurt says as he sips from his wine glass.

"I think you're nice," I respond teasingly.

"I think you're more than nice," he counters, grinning at me as he lowers his glass and leans over the table to me.

I lean a little closer, "I think you're beautiful," I say, my eyes widening.

"Well, I _know_you're beautiful," he whispers in response, our faces so close that his breath tickles my lips. Then unexpectedly he closes the gap, hand finding its way around my neck as he presses our lips together quickly over the table. We both pull away at the same time, him smirking as I feel a blush work its way up my cheeks.

"Tease," I mutter. He smiles and shrugs.

It isn't long until our food arrives and we begin to eat, both laughing and smiling and joking. The conversation is easy and carefree and not at all forced. It feels like we've been doing this for months, and to some degree that's exactly what we have been doing, only this time it's a date in a fancy restaurant, not just dinner at each others house.

Slowly darkness descends on the city beneath us as the sun falls below the horizon, bathing our entire view orange as the sky lights up in dazzling shades of blue, pink and purple. Almost unnoticeably, lights begin to flicker on in the restaurant, casting the entire room in a deep, atmospheric light which shines on the highly polished floor. After I finish eating I watch in amazement as London falls into darkness, the occasional light flashing on in an office block, the small white lights looking strangely like artificial stars against the velvet backdrop of the city at night.

"Blaine?" Kurt's delicate voice brings me back to reality as I slowly turn my attention to him with raised eyebrows. "You okay?" he asks with concern.

"Yeah I'm fine, I was just…" I trail off as I glance back out of the window, my mind reeling at how my life has changed so much. Four years ago I was living in LA with a long term boyfriend and no work, and now I'm living in London with a job and a daughter, on a date with my high school boyfriend. "…thinking about life," I finally say as I look back into his familiar, welcoming eyes.

"What about it?" he asks, head falling to the side slightly.

"Just how quickly it can change," I admit with a small smile. Kurt frowns so I quickly speak again, "just ignore me. I'm being unnecessarily poetic," Kurt laughs and finishes off the wine in his glass. "Are we done?" I ask.

He nods with a grin. I catch the attention of our waitress a few tables away and ask for the bill. She brings it over and places it on the table with a smile. Both of us reach for it at the same time, hands knocking playfully as we battle for it. "I'm paying," he tells me resolutely as he snatches it from my grasp.

"Hey! No you're not, Kurt, this is my date, I get to pay," he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his trouser pocket. "Kurt, I'm serious!" I whine, reaching over the table to take it back. When I do so he frowns at me.

"That's not fair," he says seriously.

"Yes, it is," I reply as I pull my own wallet from my pocket.

"I'm not a woman. I don't need you paying for my dinner," he taunts as he makes another swipe for the bill.

I laugh, "I'm fully aware that you're not a woman," I tell him with a grin, to which he blushes before I continue, "and I am eternally thankful for that. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm paying for this," I assure him as I slide my card out and slip it into the leather wallet the bill's in. Kurt continues to frown at me as the waitress comes over and takes the bill away, promising to return with a chip and pin machine. Just as she leaves I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out and frown as my babysitters name flashes up. "I'm going to have to take this Kurt," I tell him as I move to stand up.

"Who is it?" he asks with a serious expression.

"Babysitter," I tell him, "my pin's 2923. I'll be back in a second," I promise before quickly standing, weaving between tables to the entrance where it's considerably quieter. I take the call hurriedly. The babysitter explains that Ava is refusing to go to bed without me wishing her goodnight. I grin despite her having interrupted my date as she hands the phone over, "goodnight Ava sweetie."

"Night Daddy," she says through an obvious yawn. "Tell Kurty I said night as well," I smile and promise her I will. I then say bye to Louise, the babysitter, and thank her for calling before turning back to my seat.

But I notice Kurt walking towards me, jacket slung over his arm and my wallet in his hand. He reaches me and holds it out for me with a suspiciously huge grin on his face. I frown in confusion and take it. "Thanks," I say as I try to decipher his unusual smile. He just grins widely before opening his mouth to speak, but before he can we're interrupted.

"Your roses," someone says behind us. I turn and notice our waitress holding them out.

"Oh yeah, thanks," I say with a smile, taking them from her. They've been wrapped back up in their original red paper. I present them to Kurt, who blushes as he takes them. We thank her and walk away, sliding into the elevator side by side. I look up at Kurt beside me. He's buried his nose in the red petals and is inhaling deeply, but I can still see an unexplainable smile playing on his lips. "What're you grinning at?" I finally ask, curiosity getting the better of me as we walk out of the building and into the warm night.

"You," he replies secretively as he shifts the flowers to his other arm and intertwines our hands together forcefully.

I smile up at him as we cross the road heading into Hyde Park. It's lit by glowing orange streetlights and is surprisingly empty considering it's such a warm summer night. "What about me?" I ask smiling, because when I see him smile it automatically makes me smile.

He doesn't reply but instead digs his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pull out a small, yellowing scrap of paper. "When I put your card back in, it fell out. I wasn't snooping I swear," he hurries to assure me as I take it from him, unfolding it with both hands.

Printed on it in faded black ink is a short quote; _'I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.'_, and written in the corner, in recognizable handwriting are four simple words; _'I love you too'_. I feel my stomach twist strangely as my mind flies back to that English lesson. I remember with clarity the way I watched him adoringly, the passing of notes, the way his hand trailed along his neck. I remember his crossed legs and the small laugh he'd suppressed, I remember kissing his fingertips before folding this note and slipping it lovingly into my wallet.

I stare in silence at the tiny fragment of our past as we continue to walk. It's peculiar really, because despite the huge, monumental changes that've occurred in both our lives, this small quote still feels strangely true for us. True in the sense that we have somehow managed to find each other again, whether by fate or destiny or pure coincidence it's still happened, we still seem to be inseparably connected by our very blood and nerves. The silence stretches on, him staring at me anxiously, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "I'm sorry," he finally says, "I shouldn't have read it I just- It fell out and I thought how old it looked and how small it was. I just wondered what was on it…"

"No no it's- it's fine," I assure him as I finally manage to tear my eyes away from it to look at him. I can see worry written across his features. "Honestly I just- It just took me back is all," I tell him truthfully with a smile. He returns my smile weakly. I glance down at the paper one last time, my thumb grazing contemplatively over those four simple words, before I fold it along the lines already forced into it and slip it back into my wallet.

"You- You're keeping it?" he asks, eyes glinting somewhat hopefully.

"Of course," I reassure him as I slide my hand back into the warmth of his. "It's survived this long, let's hope it survives another eight years."

He smiles at me again, immediately understanding the underlying meaning before we continue the rest of the journey to his house in a more relaxed atmosphere.

Finally we reach his street and turn onto it, me following beside him. The two of us walk up his front steps, our hands still knotted together as we turn to face each other. He smiles shyly, skin glowing orange under the fluorescent street lights. "Thank you," he says in a whisper, azure eyes finding my own and sparkling, "it was…perfect," he concludes as he continues to smile.

I nod in agreement before slowly stepping forward. I press a hand tentatively against his stomach, the muscles tensing beneath my touch, before trailing it around his back and pulling him to me. He ducks his head and smiles briefly against my lips before leaning into the kiss, a smile spreading across my own lips as his free hand tangles in my hair, pulling me even tighter against him. My pulse begins thumping in my ear as his tongue teases my lips open, sliding into my mouth and against my own.

I groan into the kiss, stepping forward and forcing him into the metal banister on his front step. He gasps as his back collides with it before dragging me even closer, hand dipping to roam beneath my jacket and up my side, causing goose bumps to erupt along my arms and neck and my hips to roll forwards. Then unexpectedly he pulls away and looks down at me with still parted lips, breathing slightly erratic, pupils noticeably dilated. "D'you…" he swallows, causing my eyes to dart from his wet lips to focus on his eyes, "D'you want to come in?" he finally asks slightly breathlessly.


	20. Chapter XX

Friday 2ndAugust 2019(Continued)

**Kurt**

My heart's beating wildly in my chest, thumping against my ribcage, blood coursing rapidly around my body, ringing in my ears, pulsing in my fingertips. Blaine groans against my lips as I press my tongue into his mouth, slipping between his lips and against his own. He tastes like wine and desperation. He steps forward, forcing me back, pressing me against sharp metal, causing me to simultaneously gasp and pull him closer. Dropping my free hand beneath the fabric of his jacket I press it against his waist, running it shakily up the side of his ribs, revelling in the feel of his laboured breathing. Unexpectedly his hips roll forward, pressing briefly against mine, forcing me to pull away from his frantic lips to focus on his golden eyes. "D'you…" I gulp, forcing down my fear of rejection as his eyes focus on mine. "D'you want to come in?"

His eyes widen slightly as his eyebrows rise, lips still parted and wet. There's silence. The only noise is our frantic breathing and beating hearts. I wait for him to reply, watch as his eyes drop from mine, feeling his body tense beneath my touch. The silence stretches on, him quiet and unmoving while I stare hopefully into his unfocused eyes, then finally he replies; his body language telling me more than the two words he whispers, "I shouldn't." He steps back, hands dropping from around me and rising slowly to run shakily through his mussed up hair.

"Oh," I breathe, my hand still outstretched, dropping limply to my side before weaving around my waist, a makeshift barrier from the pain.

"It's just… it's a first date and I-" he looks away with a heavy sigh, hands burrowing deep into his pockets. "I'm so scared of screwing this up before it's even really begun…" he trails off, looking up with sad eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers with a tiny step towards me, one hand lifting as if to caress my cheek before falling again.

"It's fine, I shouldn't have erm…" I swallow the lump rising in my throat, "I shouldn't have asked," I say as casually as I can before stepping towards my front door. With a shaking hand I retrieve my keys, somehow managing to unlock the door. I take a step in before turning hesitantly to face him. He hasn't moved, still stood as if he's looking down the street. "Blaine?" I whisper. He turns slowly to face me, expression a maelstrom of emotions. "Thank you, again" I say.

"What for?" he asks confused as he turns to face me completely.

"A wonderful night," I say with a small smile, trying to my hardest to cover the rejection I'm feeling. He smiles minutely back as I rest my head against the door frame.

"Shall I… shall I call you tomorrow?" He asks uncertainly, to which I nod.

"Of course."

He nods a little in response as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. He then looks up at me, a strange sorrow dulling his eyes. But I can't take is anymore, my insides are squirming with rejection and embarrassment and I want nothing more than to close the door and weep. "Night," I finally manage to say, voice slightly choked as I repress a sob.

"Bye Kurt," he whispers before I step back and slowly close the door. I press it shut with both hands, wincing at the loud click of the bolt slotting into place before sighing heavily, slumping against it. I relish in the cool, solid wood against my heated body, cold seeping through my thin clothes, pressing heavy against my chest where I can still feel my heart working furiously. After a minute I drop the roses to the floor, turning I press my back against the wood before sliding down. Finally hitting the floor I pull my knees up and hug them to my chest, pressing the sockets of my eyes against them in a weak attempt to prevent the tears which are beginning to build.

If someone was to ask me why I'm crying, I wouldn't have an answer. I've just been out on a date with the man I'm falling in love with; it was beautiful and romantic and perfect and everything I could ever dream of. So why am I crying?

Because, despite all that, he still rejected me. And it isn't even about sex. _Yes_, I want to touch him and taste him and feel him, but more than that I just want to _be with him_. I want to lie next to him and look in his eyes and see my future. I want to curl up against him and listen to the beating of his heart and how it keeps time with my own. I want to wake up next to him and feel his warmth against me and imagine never being cold again.

Sighing I look up and into the blackness of my empty home. Pale moonlight filters in through the windows at the end of the living room, casting eerie shadows against blank walls. Groaning I pull myself to my feet, kicking my shoes off before leaning down to retrieve the roses. I smile sadly before wandering through into my kitchen, where by the light of the moon I retrieve an empty vase and fill it with water. I quickly cut an inch off the stems and place them in the vase, letting them fall randomly, not having the patience to arrange them neatly.

I stand in silence. My hands pressed flat against the counter top, the cold soaking through my skin, eyes roaming lazily over my empty living room before catching on the far wall. A large stain stands out against the pale grey paint from where Blaine spat out his drink not long ago. It's the only mark, the only imperfection, a single blemish among my otherwise pristine house, and yet that one stain makes me smile more than any of the pictures or ornaments or keepsakes I've accumulated. My house represents my life before Blaine; simple, straightforward, boring. Whereas that one flaw against a spotless wall is Blaine's effect on my life, though he could never be described as a flaw; he's the most perfect person. He's filled my grey life with a spectrum of colours, traded my loneliness for Friday night dinners and picnics in the park, made me laugh until I cry and filled my heart with more joy that I thought it could ever possibly hold.

I'm staring resolutely ahead, eyes unfocused as I remember his smile and the feel of his hand in mine; then unexpectedly there's a loud banging on the door. The sound of knuckles wrapping urgently against wood shakes me from my thoughtful mood. Frowning I turn and quickly cross to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. And there's Blaine; stood exactly where I left him. There's a split second before I speak in which I take in his appearance, rigid and nervous looking, both hands fisted at his side, knuckles white, eyes somewhat scared. "Bla-?" I begin before he speaks over me.

"I rang the babysitter," he says quickly, words becoming jumbled as he shifts from one foot to the other, looking up at me with wide eyes. His dark hair stirs in the slight wind.

"You did?" I ask; confusion and worry seeping through me. Has something happened to Ava?

"I asked her if she could stay the night…" he replies, eyes darting between mine as one hand rises absentmindedly to run through his hair, taming the unruly curls slightly.

"Why?" I manage to whisper, preparing myself for bad news.

"So I could do this," he whispers back as he quickly crosses the doorstep. He glances up at me, shaking hands cupping my cheeks, pulling me towards him as my heart beat quickens. For a split second we're so close I can count his eyelashes, I can feel his warm breath tickling my trembling lips, I can see so deep into his eyes that I swear to god; I see a glimpse of his soul. And then we both move forward and close the gap, lips colliding needily, eliciting a half-stifled moan as I melt against him, falling forward to press myself as close to him as possible.

His hands fall from my face as mine wind around his neck, burrowing into thick curls as his skim the length of my neck, chest, ribs, around my waist, causing me to shiver as they meet behind my back and lock me against him. I force his lips open with my tongue, pushing closer even though there's no space left between us as my heart tries to beat out of my chest. Suddenly his hands drop from my waist, grasping my hips, thumbs grazing the bone as he pushes me back forcefully. I stumble as I drag him with me, moaning unashamedly as his hands curl around my body to squeeze my ass, lifting me slightly before pressing our hips together and kicking the door shut with his foot.

I push him forcibly back until his back collides with solid wood, causing him to gasp before I pull away, head falling against his shoulder as my lungs beg for air. "Sorry," I mumble into his neck before my tongue darts out to lick slowly behind his ear, desperate to remember the taste of his skin.

I feel his body shudder beneath me, hands fisting in my hair, forcing me to look at him before he speaks, words warm against my lips, "I don't normally do this on a first date," he tells me quickly, eyes shining, grip tightening in my hair.

"Neither do I…" I tell him breathlessly, "…but-" my lips graze his hairline, "-I think we're-" falling to leave a trail of kisses down his temple, "-way past the-" along his jaw "-first date mark," I finally finish as I force our lips together. I feel him smile against me as his tongue licks into my mouth, tracing along my bottom teeth as I moan and mould myself against him, pushing him harder against the door; desperate to be closer, desperate to feel him, desperate to never let go.

"So do I," he manages to say between kisses, hands roaming over my shoulders, making me shudder before pushing my blazer off and tugging my shirt free of my trousers. Warm, insistent hands immediately dart beneath the fabric and ghost over sensitive skin, muscles tensing beneath much anticipated touches as with a breathy moan I break free of the kiss to bury my face in his neck. Breathing heavily against him I pull him from the door, tugging his jacket off before moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, knees shaking and heart thumping as my hands tremble over his body. Slowly exposing more and more tanned skin, wet kisses trailing down his chest as I fall to my knees, his hands frantically forcing my t-shirt up and over my head, skin prickling as cool air falls against burning skin.

"_Kurt_," he moans as my hands fumble with his jeans; popping the button open and unzipping them as I trace the hem of his boxers with wet kisses. His head falls back with a thump against the door, exposing a long trail of exposed skin from where I've kissed, up toned stomach, broad, heaving chest, the column of his neck, sharp point of his jaw and looking up I can just make out his eyes in the darkness. Staring upwards, unfocused but sparkling. I frantically force my hands down the back of his jeans, cupping his ass before pushing them down his thighs, his hands tangling in my sweat dampened hair as I bite down lightly on his thigh. He seems to be struggling, unsure of whether to drag me up to his face or press me closer to his cock, so I make the decision for him, my lips pressing against him through the fabric of his boxers.

He whimpers slightly as I pull away, hands pushing me forward again before I hook my fingers over the hem of his boxers, forcing them down. His body trembles above me as I grasp his hips, holding him against the door before pressing the length of my tongue onto the underside of his erection, licking the entire length and flicking my tongue over the slit. His grip tightens in my hair, making me moan as his thigh muscles jump beneath my hands, trying to thrust forward despite how firmly I'm holding him back. Then without warning I close my mouth around him entirely, hollowing my cheeks, pressing all around him as I slide my wet lips further down. And I can _finally _taste his skin, feel his muscles shaking, hear him moaning above me; it's sensory overload and I can't get enough. "Fu-u-uck" he gasps, hips jerking desperately forward as I pull back, swishing my tongue over the head and sucking gently before plunging down again, his cock hitting the back of my throat repeatedly, my nails digging into his hips as I try desperately not to gag.

Then startlingly he's pulling me away by my hair, dragging me up, eyes hungry in the darkness as he tugs me flush against him, pushing at me until I hit the wall, jumbled words falling from wet lips, "I didn't come back just for sex Kurt, we don't have to, I jus-" he whispers against my lips, making me whimper before his tongue darts into my mouth. He kick off his shoes, jeans and boxers, frantic hands making easy work of my trouser buttons, "I- I-" he stutters as his hands shake. "I _need_you," he finally breathes, "I've always needed you," his eyes find mine in the darkness, frantic movements halting as we stare at each other for the longest second. _F__uck_he's _beautiful._

"I know, I _know_," I reassure him as his head burrows into the hot skin of my neck, hands grasping my waist so tight it hurts and I can practically feel his heartbeat against my chest. "I need you too, _always_," I whisper as with fumbling hands I force his shirt from his body, running my hands down his strong back, nails scratching and eliciting a growl and a hard bite against my pale skin. _That'll bruise_, I think, causing me to shiver before digging my nails in either side of his ribs as tight as possible, wanting to mark him as he's marking me.

I gasp as one hand darts beneath my trousers to palm my cock, the other dragging down my thigh as he kisses my neck and chest, making me shiver as the cool air breezes over them. Then suddenly both his hands are on each of my thighs, crouching slightly he hooks his hands behind my knees and lifts me. My legs instantly hook around him, locking him against me as he slams me against the wall. "_Fuck_, Blaine," I gasp as his cock rubs against mine, still covered in thin fabric, causing my eyes to roll back and a deep groan to rip through me. I feel him smile against my neck before he bites down hard on my ear lobe. Instinctively I tighten my legs and arms around him as his lips attack my own, hungry and insistent as our chests press together, a thin sheen of sweat forming on our bodies as I rock my hips forward, pressing slightly against his erection, causing his hands to drop to grasp my ass, holding me against him as he steps away from the wall, carrying me with him as in the darkness he blindly searches for the bedroom door.

He finally finds it and pushes me against it roughly, forcing it open as he stumbles in, our lips still attached and kissing frenziedly as he strides over to the foot of the bed, practically throwing me down. I wince slightly as my burning skin sinks into the cool fabric but then Blaine's crawling on top of me, the heat of his body quickly distracting me as he pulls me up the bed with ease.

He swiftly tugs my hands from around him, holding them above my head with one of his own, kissing me below my ear, causing me to quiver and buck up. "Jesus Kurt, you're so-" he remains just out of reach as I squirm, desperate to touch him as he kisses my collar bone, hand running over my ribs, "-fucking-" his tongue laps slowly up my sternum as his fingers graze the hem of my trousers "-gorgeous," he growls again my skin. The stubble on his jaw scratches me as I moan unashamedly, head pressing back into the bed as my hips snap up. Then thankfully I feel his hand force its way into my boxers, pushing them roughly down my thighs before his hand closes tightly around my cock.

"Oh _god_, Blaine," I practically weep as his hand moves around me, preventing me from thrusting into his palm by holding my hips down with his knee. "Let me touch you," I whine, biting down on his shoulder to get his attention as I frantically try to free my hands. He laughs before releasing them. With a groan of relief I pull him flush on top of me, lips crashing messily against his as our chests slide together and his hips press down on mine, causing both of us to gasp as his hand begins to move quicker, thumb pressing against the slit as I thrust shamelessly up, desperately trying to wriggle the rest of the way out of my trousers and boxers as I curse myself for wearing such skin tight clothes.

I hear him laugh again and looking up into his eyes. I'm stunned to see he's just watching me, hand now moving slowly, body hovering an inch above mine as he smiles at me. I smile back, marvelling at the sparkle in his eyes, damp hair falling into his face, kiss-swollen lips. "Some things never change," he whispers before kissing me slowly, remembering how my skinny jeans caused the same trouble in the past. I laugh into the kiss, lips moving languidly together as his hand ghosts up my chest. The desperation momentarily gone as we drown in each other.

And then I feel his knee press between my thighs, forcing them open as I groan, breaking our lips apart, hands tangling in his hair, trembling above me his head falls forward to rest against my shoulder as I part my legs more, raising one to arc it over his back as I roll upwards, cocks pressing together as he moans into my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he presses down on me. I quickly stretch my arm out, fumbling as I pull open the bedside drawer and dig around for the lube I'm sure is in there. Thankfully my hand closes around the cold bottle before I pull it out, pressing it into his hand. I feel him smirk into my skin as he pops the lid, smothering his fingers before bringing them down to rest between my legs, grazing the skin of my inner thigh, pressing lightly against my hole and making me jump slightly as my leg tightens around him.

"Please," I growl as he unhurriedly traces his fingers around my entrance, my hips rolling uncontrollably as I try to press down on his fingers, then slowly he forces them inside me, two at once, muscles tightening around the intrusion. His lips fall against my neck as my eyes roll back, head pressing further into the pillow as tears begin to well in my eyes, because _fuck_he's everything and _more._ Then slowly he draws them out, before pushing back in hard, breath heavy against my skin with each twist, until he hits my prostrate and screaming I jerk upwards. I pant against his chest as pushes into me, before desperation takes over and with fumbling hands I pull him out, hastily grabbing his hard cock and lining it up with my hole. "_Now_," I beg as my other leg lifts around his waist, ankles locking as I try to drag him closer.

"Kurt…" he breaths rough against my neck, "…condom," he finally stutters, one hand resting beside my head, holding himself above me as the other grips my bruised hip, pressing me against the bed.

"No time," I moan as my hands clutch desperately in his hair, lips closing wetly over his as I mumble into his mouth, "don't want…" I lick the roof of his mouth, making him tremble and bite down on my bottom lip. "Need to-" I quiver, hips thrusting forward just with the thought of him being inside me as I suck his tongue into my mouth, "-feel you," I finally groan as my skin burns and my heart thumps and my body quivers with need.

"Bu-" he begins before I shout over him, hands tugging at his hair, forcing him to look at me with lust filled eyes and _Jesus Christ_he's _gorgeous._

"I've been tested, now please ju-" my words cease as I gasp, his hand quickly releasing my hip, lining himself up swiftly before filling me up, the head of his cock stretching me open before sinking in completely, sliding into me in one slick motion. His self-satisfied smirk is the last thing I see before my eyes roll, head thrown back in ecstasy as a long, keening moan breaks free of tingling lips. My spine arcs off the bed, sweat soaked chests pressing together, my hands fisting in his hair, his breath warm over my sensitive skin before he pulls out, pausing momentarily, causing me to whimper before thrusting back in forcefully.

He groans above me, lungs emptying and lips quivering as his chest curves towards me, back bowing inwards as he pushes completely in, balls hitting my ass, head falling back, hair plastered to his face and neck as sweat beads on his forehead and temple, rolling down his check, over his stubbled jaw, dripping onto my heaving chest as his eyelids flutter shut and hands quiver, one shaking beside my head while the other grasps my hip so tight I'll no doubt have his hand imprinted there for days.

My toes curl as I feel him move inside me, body shaking above me, wet, hurried kisses painting my neck and chest, drying onto my skin under his hot, heavy breathing. "_Fuck,"_ I moan, elongating the syllable as he presses heavily on my prostate, making me twitch beneath him, holding onto him even tighter because life has never felt this good. We quickly build a rhythm, quickening as my legs tighten around him, dragging him down with every thrust as I lean up to lick a long line around his neck, tasting his salty sweat and feeling him groan above me, and then his hand closes around my cock, pumping furiously as he leans up to look at me.

His eyes lock on mine, pure black in the darkness, wide and wild with lust and desire and want. Hair wet, lips parted, breathing ragged. "God Kurt, you're so- fucking- perfect," he shudders above me, punctuating each word with a hard thrust, final one slamming into me hard as a single tear swells and falls from the corner of my eye, falling rapidly over sweaty skin before disappearing into my hairline. "You're crying?" he suddenly questions, movements halting above me and causing me to whimper as I try to smile.

"Happy tears though, happy tears," I gasp as I roll my hips up, entire body sparking with electricity. His head falls to the side as he tried to decipher my expression, "I promise, just, _please move_," I beg. He smiles down before moving again, my body relaxing beneath him as he kisses the corner or my eye where the tear escaped. "Oh god," I pant as heat builds in my abdomen, cock beginning to twitch as I loose complete control of my hips, canting wildly, rolling them up onto the length of Blaine's cock still buried within me. "I- I-" I stammer, trying desperately to form words but it's no use, my hips are snapping wildly, in time with Blaine's as he slams harder and harder into me, muscles visibly tensing above me before with one final, slick twist of my cock and thrust of his hips we're both coming.

Curses fall from both our lips as they crash together, my legs locking him inside me as our tongues suck into each other's mouths, bodies convulsing together, my come erupting over both our chests, vision blurring with the intensity, ears ringing with the sound of our joint hearts as we simultaneously moan into each others mouth. My muscles clamp down as he comes inside of me, twitching slightly, hips continuing to jerk forward as he fills me, and _good god_ he's beautiful when he comes. Thick eyelashes fluttering closed, lips wet, parted as a throaty moan escapes, hair and skin slick with sweat, body hot and writhing against me.

He slumps on top of me, arms giving in as his weight falls atop me, breathing irregularly against my neck as our chests heave together. Eventually, with a slight wince from both of us, he pulls out, rolling to the side, lying on his back. A slightly shaking hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers lacing together tightly as the joint sound of our breathing fills the room.

We lay in silence for a few minutes, both coming down from our highs as our breathing evens out, heart rates returning to normal. I shiver involuntarily; sweat cooling on my hot body. "Cold?" he asks next to me, and out of the corner of my eye I see him turn to face me.

"A little," I respond, tilting my head in his direction so we're completely facing each other. A slow smile spreads across his face as he rolls towards me, making me smile as he pulls me close to him, shuffling us further up the bed, forcing the duvet down until it pooled at our feet. He then leans down and grabs it, pulling it up and over us as he snuggles against my chest.

"Better?" he asks concerned, a tender kiss falling against my shoulder.

"Much," I reply, cupping his face, bringing it up to my own before kissing him slowly. I feel him smile against my lips as my heart swells and realisation hits me; _I'm in love with this man_. And suddenly my life seems a whole lot simpler. I don't care what my dad thinks, I don't care about people at work gossiping, I don't care about people in the streets staring. All I care about is the man wrapped in my arms, whose heart beats against my chest, whose face fills my every dream.

His breath falls against my neck, chest rising and falling against my own, hand tight around my waist as we lay together. Both unspeaking and yet speaking volumes to each other in the way we cling together. After a few blissful minutes of silence he speaks, a question falling hesitantly from his lips, "why were you crying?"

I frown slightly as I pull back to look at him, his eyes stuttering open and focusing sleepily on my own. "I told you, they were happy tears."

He looks away, eyes roaming over my shoulder as we lie in silence, then finally he speaks, eyes darting back to mine with an apology written across his face, "did I hurt you?" he asks, bottom lip caught between his teeth, making me marvel at how he can go from bone shudderingly sexy to insanely adorable in such a short space of time.

Instantly my mind shoots back to when I was 17, just after we broke up; heartbroken, hysterical, alone. My heart aches with the pain we felt, all the hurt we caused, all the tears I shed and dreams I threw away. Yes, he hurt me; but every second of pain was worth it because somehow it got us here. "Far from it," I reply with a grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, answering the question he's really asking; not what I'm imagining him asking.

He smiles as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, arm wrapping protectively around my waist as his leg forces its way between mine. Inhaling deeply I let his smell wrap around me just like his body has. I let him engulf me, the warmth of his skin burning me, the touch of his fingertips making me shiver, drowning because… well because; _finally_.

Silence washes over us. His breathing and the beating of our joined hearts the only sounds I hear for a long time, before his muffled voice breaks the stillness, one word whispered over my collarbone, so faint I feel it against my skin more than I hear it, "_Kurt…"_

"Mmm?" I hum, eyelids flickering open as I look expectantly down at his serene face. But he doesn't reply, instead a small, almost impossible to see smile curls the corners of his lips, making my heart swell as my eyes again fill with tears. _I'm never letting you go,_I think as I lean down over his sleeping form, my breath ghosting over his ear as a secret slips from my lips; "I love you."


	21. Chapter XXI

Saturday 3rd August 2019

**Blaine**

As soon as I wake up I feel his heat against me. I feel his cold feet tangled with my own, a bare leg forced between mine, knees bent to fit behind me. I feel his flaccid cock pressed slightly to the curve of my ass, chest rising and falling where it lies flush against my spine, arm tucked around me, hand splayed to rest just above my heart, our fingers laced lightly together. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. Smiling, I curl into him before detangling myself slowly, careful not to wake him as I turn over to face him. Instinctively his arm tightens around me, legs straightening as he pulls me against him, chest to chest, my semi hard dick grazing the soft skin of his thigh as I struggle to hold back a light moan.

I reach out a slightly aching arm and trace his hairline, from the top of his forehead right down one side, curling behind his ear, soft hairs tickling my palm before I trace along his jaw, thumb gently grazing his lips; they open like the petals of a flower beneath my touch, a small intake of air tickling my sensitive skin as he groans slightly, rolling inch by inch to lie on his back. His hand trails slowly around my waist, a shiver rolling up my spine as I lean across, my lips pressing lightly against his still parted ones before pulling away and watching in amazement as his eyelids stutter open; momentarily confused before a huge smile lights up his face.

"Hey beautiful," I coo, propping myself up on one elbow as my other hand reaches out, stroking his cheek lightly. His eyes close beneath my touch as his arms arc above him, a low groan rumbling through him as I feel his body stretch next to me, the lines of his ribs visible beneath pale skin, hip bones no doubt jutting out from his skin beneath the duvet. As this thought strikes me I quickly dart my free hand from his cheek all the way down his sleepy body to his hip, fingers grazing the hard bone as I smile.

"What?" he asks, voice gruff with sleep as he takes in my happy expression, rubbing lightly at his eyes and rolling onto his side to face me properly, arms burrowing beneath the duvet, hands resting against my chest

"Your hips," I reply, continuing to smile as I rest my palm flat against one, thumb running slowly over the sharp, protruding bone. He frowns at me slightly before I continue, "they… do things to me," I reply with a smirk, gripping him tighter, pulling him slightly closer.

He arcs an eyebrow sceptically, "they do?" a playful smile curls his lips

"Mmmhm," I hum as I bury my face into the crook of his neck, kissing slowly all the way up, along his jaw, up to the corner of his mouth before stopping and pulling back to look at him. "Ever since that picnic months ago; when you laid back and stretched. Your top rode up and I- I couldn't stop thinking about those beautiful hip bones of yours for weeks!" I shake my head and laugh, "I just wanted to touch them and kiss them, and… and now I can," I conclude, smiling teasingly before disappearing beneath the duvet.

"Blaine-" I hear Kurt begin before I shuffle completely down the bed, pushing him lightly so he rests on his back before straddling his legs, my lips falling against the bone pointing out from beneath soft, perfect, porcelain skin, tongue darting out to lick into the curve where it dips down before trailing all the way along to the other one, my hands curling beneath him, pushing him up slightly to meet my lips. "_Ohh…_" I hear him sigh above me, tender hands lacing into my hair, hips lifting from the mattress of their own accord to meet my lips.

I smile into his skin, feeling as his legs wriggle beneath me, the muscles of his thighs tensing and relaxing with each increasingly rougher kiss and kneed of his delicate skin. I can feel him growing hard beneath me as I revel in his escalating moans, body beginning to squirm even more as I trail one hand from his hip, dipping into the inside of his thigh. Tantalisingly close to his erection I run my hand down the length of his inner leg, reaching his knee before ghosting back up again, torturously slowly, his hips jerking slightly as he groans. My lips leave his hips, instead trailing down his right thigh, hands gripping the muscles as his tangle further in my hair, tugging me lightly.

Then suddenly a thought hits me, a memory from last night jolts my mind like lightening, my body tingling with sudden electricity as I slide up his chest, peppering his skin with quick kisses before planting my hands either side of his head, looking down at his slightly flushed and confused face. "Wha-" he begins to speak, but my voice cuts quickly over him.

"I heard you last night," I tell him, smiling widely as I wait for his response, my body tingling from the tips of my fingers right down to my toes as his words repeat in my mind.

"Heard me what?" he asks, brow furrowing slightly as his hands come to rest against my skin, rubbing leisurely up and down my waist and over my ribs, my skin burning under his touch as a shiver runs down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, excitement and anticipation whirling through my body.

"I heard what you said," I reply, my smile growing wider, a flush working slowly up my cheeks as I wait for realisation to dawn

"What did I-" he begins mischievously as he lean up to kiss my clavicle, but just as his lips touch my heated flesh his words stop abruptly, as do his lips and hands, head dropping heavily back onto the pillow as he stares up at me with frightened eyes. His hands drop from my waist to press flat against the bed as he tries to push himself up and away from me. "I- I-" he stammers. I see panic build in his eyes before I lift my hand quickly, shifting my weight to one arm as I press my index finger gently against his stuttering lips.

He stops speaking abruptly, eyes darting momentarily down to my hand before I smile slowly, eyes locking on his, hand moving to cup his flushed cheek. His eyes dart feverishly up to my own, a fraction of a second passing before I speak, "I love you too."

His eyes widen, panic quickly building, mouth dropping open beneath my hand. "You…" he gulps, eyes blinking a few times as he licks his dry lips, eyes darting frantically between my own, searching no doubt for any hint of a lie. But I know he won't find any. "You do?" He finally asks, a small smile threatening to curl his lips as he waits for my answer.

In a second my mind fills with the image of his smile, the ever changing colour of his eyes, his slender body. I'm filled with the sound of his laughter, the pitch of his voice, I can almost feel the smoothness of his palms, long eyelashes tickling my shoulder, his smell washing over me, strawberries and coconut and something else completely. _Yes,_I think, _I love him._"I do," I nod, shifting to kneel beside him as my arm begins to ache under my weight, wide smile still plastered across my face, eyes dancing with joy.

"You-" he leans up quickly, the smile on his serene face widening slightly as he rests on his elbows to look up at me. I drop a hand to his chest, weaving it around his neck and tracing along the muscles stretched tight. "You love me?" he finally asks, head cocking adorably to the side, grinning so wide that rows of white teeth are visible.

Again my mind fills with him; all pale, creamy skin and soft hair, all smiles and laughter and hope. "I do," I say with a nod, my eyes crinkling in the corners and sparkling as I take in his hopeful and excited expression.

Slowly he sits up, legs bending beneath him as he shuffles closer to me, my eyes never leaving his as I wait for him to speak. Shaking, he rests his hands against my bare thighs, eyes shining as he looks up at me, a simple question falling from his dry lips, "you're in love with me?"

I grin widely; completely unable to stop even if I want to as I take in his adorable expression, dancing eyes and shaking hands. "I am," I confirm for him again, nodding and resting my hands atop his before pulling them up one at a time, pressing a kiss to each palm. He cups them around my face, beaming; my hands remain held over his.

"Tell me again," he says, shuffling to kneel completely in front of me, our knees knocking slightly as his excitement builds, evident in his slightly hurried breathing, the frantic flickering of his eyes as they search mine, the way his grip tightens on my face.

"I love you," I tell him truthfully. Those three words which are apparently so difficult to say slip from my lips so easily when I look at him. I hope I sound as sincere as I feel; I hope those words go straight to his heart, because that's where they belong, tethering me to him, a tether fraught with knots and lose thread but still holding us together; unbreakable.

"I love you too," he replies, smile still lighting up his face as we just stare at each other. Both silent as he kneels up slightly, leaning towards me, lips pressing to mine lightly. My hands instinctively rise to caress him, one tangling in his soft hair while the other cradles the side of his neck, feeling his pulse hum against my palm. His hands press against my chest, pushing me lightly until I'm lying flat on my back, legs unfolding beneath me as he straddles me, pale hands resting beside my head as he presses down, kiss deepening as he slides his tongue into my mouth, hips rolling forward teasingly, causing a tiny amount of friction before pulling away, causing me to moan and involuntarily arc up.

We kiss slowly; hands roaming over sensitive, shivering skin, exploring the curves and dips of each others spines, the muscles of one another's chests, the contours of straining arms. I rest one hand on his shoulder, my arm curling beneath his before running my fingertips slowly down his spine, slow enough to count the ridges of his ribs, making goosebumps rise on his skin, slow enough to make him groan into my mouth as my fingers continue over the his ass, dipping to graze his thigh as he pulls away. I watch his eyelashes flicker, opening sleepily, pupils dilated and lips wet, a small shudder shaking his body before he speaks, "make love to me Blaine," he whispers, eyes locking pleadingly with my own.

I smile slowly, how can I refuse? I cup his face with one hand, pulling him down to kiss languidly as my other hand wraps around his thigh, pulling him flush against me before I roll over. He's forced beneath me as I press him further into the bed, kisses becoming increasingly more passionate, deepening as low moans began to fall from our joint lips. Our bodies roll towards each other as we both smile; lips opening in unison as our tongues slowly dance together, the taste of each other's mouths mingling till we're indistinguishable from one another.

We're laying the wrong way on the bed, Kurt's expensive sheets getting wrinkled beneath our intertwined bodies and he's already late for work. But none of that matters as our lips move together, chests pressing against each other as I trace both my hands down his body; tracing symmetrical patterns onto either side of his chest, long, twirling lines down his arms, kisses to his fingertips as my hands trail over his ribs. I circle his nipples, down his flat stomach, lips falling lightly against each hip as my fingers tingled down either side of his legs, lips ghosting over the head of his cock as a small, almost inaudible whine breaks free of his damp lips.

"Please," I hear him whisper into the silent room, the only other noise being that of his slightly ragged breathing. I oblige, quickly dampening my lips before taking the head into my mouth, closing wetly around him before dipping torturously slowly down, cheeks hollowing, tongue lapping over the base of his cock as my fingers trail light as feathers over the quivering muscles of his thighs. "_Ohh-oh,_" his breath hitches, hands which previously lay splayed against the mattress suddenly ball the fabric into fists as his body convulses beneath me, head arcing to one side as his eyes stutter shut, wet lips glistening in the dim light.

I continue to slowly suck him, pulling all the way off before plunging agonisingly slowly down, fingers grappling blindly on the bedside table before grasping at a cold plastic bottle. Fingers quickly slicked up before pressing lightly at his hole without warning. His hips buck before pressing closer. He moans above me, and looking up I notice with a stab of desire that he's leaning up on his elbows, needy, lustful eyes boring down on me. My eyes remain on his as I suck slightly harder, increasing the pressure as with one final lick his cock slips from my lips, the moment synchronising perfectly as I push my fingers completely inside him. He groans, eyes rolling back as his elbows give in and he falls back with a small thump, hands running through his own hair.

I smile as I add another finger, moving all three in small, shallow thrusts, twisting at the end, hitting his prostrate. I watch with loving and lustful eyes as his beautiful, perfect, flawless body writhes beneath me, usually so composed and yet falling apart with the simplest of touches. I languidly kiss my way up his body, continuing thrusting tantalisingly slowly into him as he presses down impatiently, muscles tensing around me, causing small moans to escape my lips without me even realising.

Eventually we're face to face. There's a thin sheen of sweat coating his flushed skin, pink cheeks and pink lips, eyes glazed with desire, flickering momentarily closed with each shallow movement inside of him. Tiny groans and moans shudder from his lips. Our eyes connect; he smiles serenely before raising one leg and curling it around me, the heel of his foot pressing into the small of my back as he silently begs for more, a hand tracing hurriedly down my chest before grasping my cock tightly, quick and frantic, making my head swim and my thighs shake as I quickly pull my fingers from within him, grasping his wrist and halting his movements.

I bring his hand up to my neck. It tangles instinctively in my hair as he pulls me down for a slow kiss. I straddle him, blindly coating my cock in lube before with desperate hands I grasp his bruised hips, aligning myself and slowly, harrowingly slowly, pushing in, rolling my hips slightly and hitting his prostrate on the first try. His hands tighten in my hair as a desperate groan rips through his body. "Oh god, oh-" his hips jerk up, other leg winding around me as he presses me in further, hands pulling my face down to his, lips meeting wantonly with shared groans. "Oh_ Blaine…_" he moans.

"Kurt?" I whisper against his lips. His eyes flicker open to look at me, arms remaining tight around my neck, body occasionally shuddering with each movement as I thrust repeatedly into him, my heart steadily thumping in my chest as my breathing becomes more and more frantic. "You're so-" my speech halts and eyes stutter shut as he tenses his legs around me, forcing my hips down, cock pressing completely in him as my body shudders, spine arcing involuntarily. I feel him smile against my neck where he leans up and kisses me, sucking lightly and making my skin tingle, electricity jolting around my body from where his lips touch my skin.

"I'm so what?" he asks quietly, lips never leaving my neck as his legs loosen, allowing me to pull out before thrusting desperately back in, my mind swimming as his hands roam over me, wet lips pressing to hot skin, breathy moans filling the air, flawless body quivering beneath me, eyelashes tickling my neck.

"You're so-" I gasp as he tenses his muscles around me, one of my arms giving way beneath me as I half fall against him. I fall him smile as his hands run down my back before curling around my waist, forcing their way between our bodies to ghost up my chest, pinching each nipple as I feel my orgasm beginning to build, a indescribable sensation washing over me as I struggle to finish my sentence, "so…"

"What? What am I?" he moans against my neck as I move quicker, regaining enough strength to prop myself up on my elbows and stare down at him. I pull out quickly, leaving just my head stretching him open and wait. Sure enough his lips leave my neck as his head falls back against the bed, hips instinctively thrusting upwards as his legs tense, desperately trying to force me inside him as his eyes plead with me, hands shaking as they cup my face, lips parting with ragged breaths as he tries to work out why I've stopped.

"You are so, _so_perfect," I whisper, closing the gap between us and kissing him slowly, lovingly, pressing our chests together as I run one hand quickly down the length of his body to stroke his cock. He whimpers beneath me, before bit by bit I push completely into him, timing my thrust with my hand on his cock and paying particular attention to the angle, positioning myself perfectly to hit his prostrate. He moans unashamedly into my mouth, the noise making me dizzy with desire, my thrusts quickening inside him as with each desperate movement his muscles tense and his legs press me further, my hand tightening on his cock, thumb smearing the pre-come. His lips drop from mine as his spine arcs off the bed, breathing shallow as his eyes close, head pressing back into the pillow, shuddering hands fisting in my hair as a low, deep, guttural groan swells from his chest.

Watching him fall to pieces beneath me throws me over the edge, my hips becoming uncontrollable as I moan above him, until with a few, final well positioned thrusts and strokes of his cock he's coming; head thrashing to one side as he pulls me flush on top of him, come erupting over both our chests as he presses us together with strong arms, my name breaking free of his lips, "_Blaine_."

His desperate voice, tensing muscles, strong arms, pale skin, flushed face, his come decorating both our bodies, cock twitching in my hand, nails digging into my skin. He's everywhere, his smell, his skin, his voice. I shudder as my muscles tense, arms aching under my weight, head falling back as he presses me into him one final time, moaning as I come inside him, vision blurring at the edges, mind going blank as I'm overcome with love for the man beneath me before I slump, entire body turning to jelly, strength disappearing as I fall completely on top of him.

I hear him laugh gently, arms wrapping around me as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. We stay like this for a moment, limbs intertwined, chests heaving against each other before he speaks, "Blaine?"

I smile; always having loved the way my name sounds from his lips. "Mmm?" I hum against his shoulder.

"You're kind of crushing me," he whines, although I can hear a smile in his voice. With a groan I allow him to roll us over, pushing me gently out of him and onto my back before burrowing his face into my neck, arm weaving over my chest, a content sigh tickling my skin. Despite having slept for what felt like an eternity, I'm exhausted. Exhausted, happy and sated. I smile and curl towards him, wrapping my arms around him and revelling in the tiny rumble of happiness which echoes from his chest.

We lay like this for an immeasurable amount of time, bodies and minds and hearts weaved together; inseparable. But nothing perfect lasts forever. Just as I'm falling back into a peaceful sleep, his voice brings me back to reality. "I need to go Blaine," he says almost silently with sadness in his voice.

"Huh?" I mumble, eyes opening slowly to look down at him questioningly.

"I have to go work," he tells me in a whisper, eyes downcast as a frown wrinkles his forehead.

"No you don't," I assure him with a smile, tightening my arms around him.

I feel him smile as he kisses my neck, "I really do though." I groan, shaking my head slightly as I nuzzle closer, unwilling to let him go. "Blaine…" he whines, elongating my name as he presses his hands flat to my chest, pushing me gently away from him.

I huff and roll away to lay on my back, arm trailing from over him. I hear his gentle laugh and feel his body move next to me, coming to rest a couple of inches above my own, one hand lifts to run through my hair before cupping my cheek. My eyes stutter open beneath his touch. He's beaming at me, soft hair falling unrestrained over his forehead as he slowly least down and kisses me. "I love you," he whispers against my parted lips.

"I love you too," I reply, unable to control the smile which spreads across my face or the warm feeling flooding my entire body. I look up at his beaming face and sparkling eyes. He takes a deep breath, revelling in the feeling of being loved before leaning down to gently kiss me again.

And then he's gone, rolling off of me and standing up. The sudden disappearance of his warmth makes me shiver slightly, my naked body exposed to the air as I watch him walk towards the bedroom door; the sight of muscles tensing beneath creamy skin along the whole length of his naked body made me groan, he's so beautiful.

I roll onto my stomach and look up at him, "where're you going?" I ask just as he turns into the hall.

"Shower," he call back as he vanishes out of view. I grin and roll back over, pulling his soft sheets over me as I fall almost instantly into a light sleep, the distant sound of the shower humming momentarily in my ears before I'm transported somewhere else entirely.

An unknown amount of time later I feel fingertips ghosting along my hairline, gently pushing my hair from my face as my eyes stutter open. I squint up at him, rubbing tiredly at my eyes as I look him over. He's fully dressed, loose navy t-shirt contrasting with his white skin, falling away at the collar to reveal a sinful amount of skin, charcoal grey trousers and jacket to match, his hair's dry and perfectly styled, skin clear and eyes sparkling.

"I'm going now," he tells me in a whisper, sitting gently on the side of his bed as his hands falls to trace down my neck and along my collarbones. I pout childishly, rolling onto my side to curl slightly around him, bending my knees to rest behind him while one hand falls over his thigh, my face nuzzling into him and inhaling the smell of his clothing and feeling a familiar sense of _home_ wash over me.

"Don't want you to," I mumble against his mattress, my grip on his leg tightening. He laughs as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to my unshaven jaw.

"Neither do I," he tells me, hand weaving into my hair and making me sigh as my skin tingles beneath his touch. "But I have to," I open my eyes to see him frown, "and you have to get home to Ava," he reminds me, making me groan as I realise I can't just lie in his warm bed, breath in his smell and wait for him to get home.

"M'kay," I finally say, accepting defeat as I sit up. He stands up and smiles down at me.

"You were always sleepy after… y'know" he shrugs and blushes; I laugh as I glance up into his face, noticing a reminiscent smile curling his lips.

I nod in agreement, laughing slightly before speaking, "25 years old and still unable to talk about sex without blushing." The slight pink colour flames to red and spreads further down his neck as he averts his eyes, a small smile still evident on his lips. "You're just too adorable sometimes," I tell him, shaking my head at the wonderful man in front of me.

He continues to blush as he changes the subject, "I put your clothes in to wash, so feel free to wear some of mine," I frown, looking around the room and noticing for the first time that all our clothes have indeed disappeared, how long was I sleeping? "I'll erm-" he coughs and clears his throat, catching my attention as I swing my legs from the bed and look up at him properly. "I'll see you later?" he asks nervously.

I smile and nod as I stand up in front of him, completely naked and unabashed, "of course you will, come over after work if you want," I offer, hoping desperately that he will.

His face lights up with a smile, "okay," he beams, rocking forward on the balls of his feet, voice slightly higher than usual. "I'll see you tonight then," his eyes shine as he leans down and kisses me quickly on the lips.

I beam back as I watch him walk to the door, hips swaying slightly, "Kurt?" I say just before he disappears from view.

"Mmm?" he asks, face turning slowly to look at me, eyes expectant and questioning.

I smile slowly, eyes roaming quickly over every aspect of him. Everything from soft hair to slender fingers, strong arms to thin waist, sharp hip bones to the curve of his spine, his pale skin to the twinkle in his eyes. "I love you," I say with joy and sincerity.

He blushes again, cheeks tinting pink before he grins widely. "I love you too," then he does disappear from view, the click of the bolt on the door slotting into place echoing around his apartment as a thought strikes me; _yes, we are definitely way past the first date mark._


	22. Chapter XXII

Saturday 3rdAugust 2019 (Continued)

**Blaine**

I'm sat cross legged on my living room floor, the entire carpet protected by old newspapers which crinkle when you move. A kaleidoscope of paint pots and vials of sparkling glitter stand out against the black and white paper, glue pots overthrown and congealing in lumps. Drawing paper was discarded long ago in exchange for my skin, which is decorated beyond recognition.

As soon as I got home from Kurt's, Ava begged me for a painting day, and I was in far too happy a mood to decline. So I gathered three days worth of newspaper and covered the carpet, I changed into my 'painting day' clothes; an old used-to-be white top which is now stained every colour of the rainbow, and a pair of old, blue ripped jeans I use for decorating. I've also dressed her in an old blue dress which'll soon be too small for her. But, like every time she paints she's shed her clothes and covered her skin in tiny hand prints, smudged versions of her name and attempts at rainbows.

So that's where we are now. Sprawled out on our living room floor, her tiny body kneeling in front of my arm, tongue sticking out between her lips as she concentrates on the puppy she's apparently drawing just below the hem of my sleeve. I smile as I watch her, hair tied in a loose ponytail, streaks of gold and silver glitter sparkling among her curls, a dot of red on the tip of her nose. She really is the most beautiful little girl.

"Finished!" she suddenly exclaims, eyes darting happily up to mine as she straightens up and takes a step back to admire her work. I glance at my own arm and see an indistinguishable smudge of shocking pink amongst the surrounding colours of green and white, two triangles which could be ears drawn onto my sleeve.

I beam at her, "it's perfect Ava!" I tell her proudly. Her eyes light up momentarily before turning and picking up the gold glitter. She slowly walks towards me, a mischievous grin curling her lips before she tips a lump into her tiny palm and presses it against my skin. It sticks easily to the still wet paint and makes the drawing even more unrecognisable.

"_Now_it's perfect," she tells me happily, dropping the glitter to the floor where it falls and spreads along the newspaper. _I'll be hoovering up glitter for months_, I think with a sigh. But it's all worth it, it's worth seeing her smile and hearing her laugh, and hopefully one day when she's older she'll remember all our painting days and turn to me and smile, maybe say something along the lines of, '_hey, d'you remember when…'_Yes. It's definitely worth it.

"Daddy?" her excited voice questions beside me, shaking me from my thoughts as I turn to face her. She smiles impishly before jumping onto my lap and pressing her paint smeared palm flat against my cheek. I scream playfully, pretending to try and wrestle her off of me, fingers digging into her sides and tickling, making her squeal and thrash in my arms, loud, uproarious laughter filling the house and mingling with my own. Then suddenly there's a loud knock on the door, making me grin even wider as I slide her off my knee and stand up. I move quickly to open the front door, forgetting that my arms are decorated a million colours, that my hair is streaked with silver glitter, and forgetting, of course, that there's now a bright red hand print on the side of my face.

I swing the door open, a massive grin plastered across my face. My eyes meet Kurt's, whose are shining in the evening sun, lips curled into a smile for the briefest second before he takes in my appearance. I watch in confusion as his eyes widen, "what the…" he trails off as his eyes run down the length of my arms, along my hair before resting on my cheek, eyebrows rising in shock, mouth hanging open with his unfinished question.

"Wha- _Oh!_" I laugh, stepping to the side to let him in as I explain, "we've been painting," I tell him happily.

"I can see that," he replies with a hint of sarcasm, smile widening as he reaches a hand out, finger on my jaw, tilting my face to one side. His finger traces the miniature hand print of my face. "You had no paper?" he asks, head falling inquisitively to the side.

"Well… yeah, but this is more fun," I say, unable to wipe the huge smile from my face. He grins at my childishness as he leans forward, hands closing around my wrists, restraining them at my sides before gently pressing his lips to mine. I step forward, arms trying to weave around his waist but he holds me back, bending my hands up and pushing against my chest as he slides his tongue between my lips. I groan as I push harder, desperate to feel his body against mine, but his grip around my wrists just tightens, moving to hold both of them in one hand as he presses his free palm flat on my chest, keeping a couple of inches between our bodies as he bites down on my bottom lip. I take a desperate step forward, to which he steps back, hitting the door as he pulls away laughing.

"You'll get paint all over me," he explains, smiling as he holds onto my wrist, one hand remaining flush against my chest, my heart pounding against it.

"I don't care," I tell him, smiling and moving forward again.

"Well I do," he exclaims, slipping out from between my body and the door, quickly disappearing into the living room, but not before shooting me a coy smile. I follow just in time to hear his shock, "oh my god!" he whispers upon walking into the room.

I poke my head around the door and take in the destruction; the room really is a mess. Newspaper everywhere, lumps of glue clotting between sheets, paint and glitter splotches decorating not only the floor but also the small girl sat in the centre in nothing but pink pants, thick paint brush in hand as she decorated the soles of her feet a bright, fluorescent green. She hasn't noticed or heard Kurt and I stood in the door way, both stifling laughter as she climbs unsteadily to her feet before stomping happily around the room, infectious laughter echoing around the empty room, mingling with the crinkling and rustling of newspaper beneath tiny feet.

"I have _got_ to get a picture of this," Kurt mutters under his breath before slipping past me, careful to not touch my paint stained clothes.

I smile as I walk further into the room and crouch back down to sit beside Ava, my legs crossing automatically beneath me as she raises her slightly podgy hands and tickles her glitter stained fingers down my neck, high pitched laughter stinging my ears. I laugh back, dipping my fingers quickly into a pot of thick blue paint before smearing it quickly down one of her cheeks. She screams and scrambles to attack me, hands fumbling towards the closest paint pot as she tries desperately to get revenge. Her tiny fist closes around a yellow pot, and before I have a chance to even comprehend what she's going to do she's beside me, hand dipping quickly into the bright paint before rising and running loosely over my hair.

Just at that moment, that precise second as I gasp in pretend shock and laughter fill Ava's face, her hand still held against my hair, a flash fills the room. We both blink a few times before turning in the direction of the flash, and sure enough there's Kurt, camera in hand as he looks down at the photo. "Perfect," he comments as he grins up at us both.

"Kurty!" Ava exclaims, realising for the first time that he's here. She quickly drops the yellow paint all over my jeans before making a lunge towards him; instinctively I reach out, arm tightening around her waist as I hold her back. "Daddy!" she screeches impatiently, grubby hands clawing at my arm to let go, eyebrows knitting together into a frown, bottom lip sticking out adorably.

"Kurt doesn't want his nice clothes covered in paint sweetie," I try to explain as she continues to scratch at me with surprisingly sharp nails. Her frantic movements stop as she turns to pout at Kurt. I take advantage of her stillness and pull her back to sit on my lap, her small body falling easily into the space created by my crossed legs.

Kurt smiles at her and moves forward, unable to resist her puppy dog eyes which he claims she's learnt from me. He steps tentatively onto the paper, careful to avoid any paint before crouching down beside us, smiling as he leans out to press a delicate kiss to a paint free inch of her forehead. I slowly take the camera from his hand and without either of them noticing I position it in front us; one of those cheesy self portraits from arms length where normally half a face or a forehead gets cut off but you still completely adore it, because a lot of the time those unplanned, random pictures capture a part of yourself which you rarely get to hold onto. This moment for example; Ava and I covered in paint, Kurt's genuine smile as he presses a kiss to her forehead, the sparkle no doubt evident in mine and Kurt's eyes, evidence of a rekindled and exciting new romance.

I hold down the shutter as it focuses, before pressing down completely. The flash goes off; bright and blinding. Ava immediately bursts into more giggles. Kurt however looks aghast as he moves to snatch the camera from my hand, always having hated having his picture taken.

"You're not deleting it!" I tell him happily as I hold it at arms length in the opposite direction to where he's crouching.

"Blaine, give it to me!" he sounds angry, leaning dangerously close to a paint stained Ava.

"Nope," I smirk, pressing to look at the picture. It fills the screen, bright with the array of colours decorating my face and the top half of Ava's body, glitter twinkling in both our hair, Kurt's eyes locked onto my face over the top of Ava's head while I smile cheesily at the camera.

I hear him groan. "I look awful, look at the bags under my eyes," he complains, although there's nothing at all wrong with the way he looks, quite the opposite in fact. Pale skin bright in the light of the flash, hair slightly tousled from the wind, falling effortlessly to one side and slightly over his forehead, t-shirt falling away to reveal prominent, tempting collarbones, eyes bright with evident happiness, a serene smile curling his lips.

"You look beautiful," I confirm, "promise me you won't delete it?" I ask, turning to face him with a pout, mirroring Ava's perfectly and realising that Kurt's right, she has indeed learnt it from me.

"Fine; I promise," he huffs, rolling his eyes as he snatches it from me, a slight blush staining his cheeks in response to the compliment as he holds it close to his face to inspect it, moving to stand up straight.

"Great," I smile, moving to stand up next to him before leaning down and scooping my arms beneath Ava's, swinging her effortlessly to sit on my hip, her multicoloured limbs wrapping around me, a tiny, tired yawn escaping her lips. "Bath time for you I think."

I nudge Kurt where he's still stood in the doorway, face trained on his camera. He glances up; momentarily confused before I nod towards the door. "Oh, sorry," he apologises, walking slowly out of the door and into the kitchen. I watch as he slips the camera back into his bag and turns to face us where we're stood in the hall.

"Are you coming Kurty?" Ava asks when he makes no motion to move.

"Oh, right, yeah… sure," he stammers slightly, looking temporarily flustered. "Let me just…" he trails off as he scoops his hand into his pocket and slips out his phone, placing it on the kitchen table before shrugging his jacket off as well, hanging it on the back of a chair. "Gotta try and minimise the damage," he says with a shy smile as he steps into the hall.

I begin walking up the stairs, Ava still in my arms as I turn and smile at Kurt over my shoulder, just in time to see him very obviously checking out my ass as we climb the stairs. His eyes dart up to mine as a fierce blush stains his cheeks.

Before long Ava's settled in the bath, mountains of sweet smelling bubbles surrounding her as she walks two dolls along the baths edge, mumbling under her breath as a story plays out in her head, mass of dark, wet curls cascading down her spine. I'm kneeling beside the bath, arms deep in the water as I scrub the majority of the paint from my skin while Kurt's perched on the toilet lid; head leant against the tiled wall, a small, somewhat tired smile curling his lips and a sparkle in his pale blue eyes.

I pull my arms out of the water and survey them, finally clean and paint free. I smile, satisfied with myself before turning my attention to a less than clean Ava, smeared smudges of paint running like rivers over her skin, meandering together, once clear water staining a multitude of colours. "Come here Av," I say, a yawn rippling through my lips before I sigh heavily, blinking my eyes tiredly.

"Let me help," Kurt offers with a smile, moving to kneel beside me, shoulder bumping against mine as Ava shuffles back to sit in front of us. I smile back at him before picking up two sponges, handing one to him. We quickly wash her, rubbing at particularly stubborn spots while she piles bubbles on top of her head. We fall into easy conversation, his excited voice filling the room and echoing off the tiled walls as he tells me about plans for upcoming London fashion week.

I listen in silence, allowing his voice to fill my mind, mingling with the occasional giggle from Ava, the sound of the two people I love most in the world filling my heart and making me smile widely. In the distance I hear my phone vibrating against the kitchen counter where I left it. Groaning I straighten up, quickly drying my hands on a nearby towel. "I'll be back in a second," I tell Kurt. He waves his hand at me, grinning as he attempts to style the bubbles on top of Ava's head.

I smile briefly at the scene in front of me before dashing down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing my phone from the table and answering without looking at the called ID. "Hel-lo?" I call cheerfully down the line. There's silence on the other end; I can hear crackling but nothing else. "Hello?" I ask again, frowning slightly as the silence stretches on.

Then a voice crackles down the line, easily recognisable, sending a shiver down my spine. "Blaine?" he says, voice hard and cold, jaw obviously clenched shut from the way my name falls heavily from his lips. I gulp and glance quickly at the kitchen counter where my phone sits; silent, while in my hand I hold Kurt's, a very angry sounding Burt on the other end.

"Erm…" I stammer, mind going blank as I stare desperately in the direction of the door, my brain begs my feet to move and yet my body remains stationary, glued to the spot in fear and shock and apprehension. "I-I'll get Kurt…" my hands are shaking as I pull the phone from my ear, holding one hand over the mouth piece as I call Kurt's name. I hear as the plug's pulled out of the bath and water rushes down the pipes, I hear him stand, the sound of Ava laughing as he picks her up, footsteps loud above my head as my mind screams at my legs to move.

"Don't. I wouldn't mind having a chat with you while I've got you," Burt says, voice frighteningly slow and menacing, my mind once again veering off and wondering what on earth Kurt has told him about why we broke up for him to still be so mad after so long.

"You would?" I ask feebly, heart rate increasing as I hear Kurt carry Ava into her room before listening to his steady footsteps as he descends the stairs.

"Yeah. Now, Kurt would never tell me what exactly happened to split the two of you up, so maybe you could enlighten me?" I groan. So he's been told nothing. What am I supposed to do now? I can't refuse to tell him and yet, he doesn't even know the two of _us_ were having sex at the time, let alone that his son got drunk and slept with someone else. Suddenly he's speaking again, his steady voice shaking me from my thoughts, "because that summer after he came home from Dalton- no! That entire _year,_ after he came home from Dalton, he was another person _entirely._ He cried for the entire summer, practically locked himself in his room, refused to come out, never left the house. He never spoke, I'd ask him a question and he'd just shrug, I'd offer him money to go shopping and he'd decline. Rachel and the other Glee kids even tried to coax him out to local theatre shows, even going to far as to plan a trip to Chicago, which I'd've happily allowed if it'd just get him out of the house!"

Kurt walks into the kitchen, frowning as he notices _his_phone in _my_hand. My eyes dart up to meet his as I listen closely to Burt's every word, my expression saddening, hoping that what Burt's saying isn't true because it's impossible to imagine someone as strong as Kurt being so broken.

"And then he went back to McKinley, I thought things would get a little easier, but they didn't. Yeah, he left the house, but only because he _had_ to. He still rarely spoke, and even more rarely did he smile. He wasn't my son anymore. He was a shell of the man he'd been before, and all because of you!" he practically spits the last words; voice growing increasingly louder as he speaks. I notice Kurt's frown quickly morph into anger, lips pursing and eyes narrowing as he recognises not only the voice but the words being spoken. He holds his hand out for the phone, but I'm unwilling to give it up, my grip tightening as Burt begins to speak again, "and then eight years later I hear that he's going on a fucking date with the very guy who broke his heart," his anger builds as Kurt takes a step towards me while I take a step back, "and now, suddenly you're answering his phone, weaselling your way back into his life… well d'you know what Blaine? My son deserves a lot fucking better than y-"

The phone is snatched from my hand, startling me as with wide eyes I watch Kurt bring it to his ear, shouting still erupting from the small device.

"Dad!" he shouts equally loudly, causing the noise on the other end to pause momentarily before continuing relentlessly.

"What are you thinking Kurt? Do you not remember what you were like aft-"

"I told you! It wasn't Blaine's fault!" he screeches, free hand rising to run through his hair, hand balling into a fist in frustration.

Burt voice is still loud, tinny as it crackles down the line, angry and irritated, "Well I don't see how it's your fault, if it was you wouldn't have spent a year cry-"

"I had sex with someone else!" Kurt yells, eyes inadvertently finding mine, an apology passing silently between us as I involuntarily cringe at the truth of his statement. For the first time Burt's silent. Kurt takes advantage of this and steps towards me, looking down at me momentarily before leaning forward, pressing his forehead against mine. Our eyes lock on each others, 'I'm sorry,' he mouths. I force a small smile before leaning up on my tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiles back sadly, silence engulfing us, until Burt seems to finally regain the use of his vocal cords as he speaks again, this time far too quiet for me to hear.

**Kurt**

"You… what?" my dad questions almost silently. His anger completely dissolving, replaced instead by complete disbelief. I groan, hating that I'm having this conversation in front of Blaine, and hating even more so that my Dad seems to need it spelling out for him.

"I had sex with someone else," I reiterate, stepping away from Blaine and moving to lean against the small dining table, my free hand splaying flat against it beside some paintings Ava must have drew before she got bored of paper.

"You… you had sex with someone?" He asks dumbly to which I roll my eyes, despite the fact he can't see me.

"Yes, someone other than Blaine," I explain, hoping to make things perfectly clear and therefore end this particular part of the conversation as quickly as possible.

He, however, seems to have other ideas. "You and Blaine were having _sex_?" I hear a hint of something else in his voice. Disappointment? Sadness? Whatever it is it's too late now, and not for one moment do I regret anything Blaine and I shared together. We were each other's 'firsts' for everything, and, even looking back now there's no one else I can ever imagine sharing that with.

"Yes. And I cheated on him. Now do you believe that it wasn't his fucking fault!" I ask angrily; tears beginning to sting my eyes as my emotions get the better of me. The full weight of just how much I've fucked everything up crashing over me like a tsunami for what feels like the millionth time, months and years which me and Blaine could've spent together thrown away because of one foolish, selfish, unjustifiable second of stupidity.

"Kurt…" I hear Blaine's quiet voice and turn to look at him. He nods towards the ceiling.

"Sorry," I apologise, realising immediately that I just swore very loudly with Ava within hearing distance. "Can I…" I trail off, motioning towards the glass door which leads to his garden. He nods and smiles, motioning that he's going upstairs.

"What're you apologising to him for?" My dad asks, voice considerably calmer yet still with a hint of undissolved anger.

"Swearing," I tell him as I step out into Blaine's garden, pushing the door shut behind myself before moving to sit on the steps leading from the decking to the grass.

"What? So you're not allowed to swear now?" He replies, voice cutting and sarcastic as he searches desperately for a reason to dislike Blaine now he no longer has a reason. I suppose it's difficult to spend so long hating someone, only to realise that every reason you have to hate them, every opinion you have of them and everything you think you know about them is suddenly not true or justified at all.

I sigh heavily, realising just how much my dad has always blamed what happened on Blaine. "His daughter's upstairs, she could've heard," I explain feebly as I rub tiredly at my eyes. It's been such a strange day.

"He- Blaine has a… a daughter?" he asks, confusion seeping into every syllable as he no doubt tries to work out _how._

"Yes, well, sort of. She's his sister's daughter, but Blaine's her legal guardian now," I try to explain quickly, hoping to not have to explain the entire story tonight.

"I think I need a little more information than that son," he responds. I smile at the use of 'son', relaxing in the knowledge that the shouting's stopped and he no longer seems infuriated at me. No doubt there will be more questions to come, but for now I'm happy to sit in the garden of the man I love, explaining to my dad how Blaine's now a dad himself.

I quickly explain to him about Sophie and William's death and how they chose Blaine to get full custody of Ava. I tell him the most basic version of the story; it isn't my story to tell after all, and I don't know how comfortable Blaine is with my dad, and therefore Carole, and probably Finn and Rachel, knowing about his life. I do however tell him how wonderful Ava is, how she's a miniature version of Blaine, how she sometimes snorts when she laughs and picks up spiders and brings them into the house, making Blaine scream.

"She sounds perfect," he says after I pause to take a breath.

"She is," I confirm, smiling despite no one being able to see me.

"So, _she's_the reason he moved to London?" he asks, voice sounding not nearly as carefree as he evidently meant it to.

"Yes… what other reason would there be?" I ask, knowing exactly what he's getting at.

"No reason," he quickly answers; too quickly.

"Did you think he'd come here for me?" I ask with a frown, indignation swelling in my chest because that's the single, stupidest suggestion I've ever heard. I don't mention to him however that when we first saw each other that for the briefest, most fleeting second I'd hoped for that to be the case.

"I- No… of course not, it was just… Okay, yes, maybe I did wonder, but a daughter is a much more sensible reason to move half way around the world than an ex-boyfriend," I hear him laugh from thousands of miles away and smile to myself.

"That's true," I agree, grinning as I run my nails up and down the varnished wood I'm sat on.

"So, can I ask how you actually met? I mean, a city like London, you don't just bump into each other," he says, and I hear the inquisitiveness in his voice and wonder just how long he's been waiting to ask.

I laugh, because that's pretty much exactly what _had_happened. "Well, you won't believe me, but I was just walking through the park after work and I saw him. It was the most surreal moment," I sigh, remembering our first meeting. I remember my heart pounding as his name slips from my lips, eyes raking quickly over his body, hand shaking as I scribble my number on his palm.

"Is he…" he coughs, clearing his throat. "I mean, are you, y'know… are you two serious?" he finally stammers, voice cracking slightly, and I'm not sure whether it's because of the phone line, or in apprehension of my answer.

I sigh, glancing over my shoulder and noticing that Blaine and Ava are now in the kitchen. I smile as I watch them, him holding her against his hip, wide smiles on both their faces, Ava waves at me over his shoulder before he turns, waving as well. I wave back minutely, heart swelling with love. _We're definitely serious,_I think as a million memories flood my mind. His lips pressing kisses to my fingertips, hand finding mine amongst rumpled bed sheets, that small, almost inaudible sigh he makes as his body curls around mine. The way his skin smells, the way his eyes shine, the tone of his voice. My mind quickly flies back to this morning, 'I love you''s being exchanged with wide smiles.

"Yes, we're serious," I reply without hesitation, sighing with relief because not only have I admitted it to my dad, but also to myself. _This is serious, _I tell myself, smiling as I do so because there's no one else I can imagine wanting things to be 'serious' with.

I hear my dad sigh, not necessarily an unhappy sigh, more of a content sigh. "Well, in that case Kurt I'm happy for you," he finally says. My heart soars as a grin spreads over my face.

"Thank you," I say, cheeks aching from how wide I'm smiling.

"I'll let you go now but…" his voice suddenly changes, tone becoming stern, "I'd like to know the truth about what happened at that party, but not right now. You go and enjoy the rest of your night," I grimace at thought of being questioned, but thank him again before saying goodbye, promising to call him soon.

I stand up slowly, slipping my phone into my pocket as I turn, watching from a distance as Blaine and Ava stare at the collection of pictures decorating the dining room table. I watch with curious eyes as they both point to one, nodding in unison before Blaine picks it up and carries it over to the large chalkboard on the opposite wall, slotting it into the corner of the frame. It remains rigid because of the dried paint, and even from a distance I cam make out three figures. One of normal height with a splodge of dark hair, the next tiny with long dark hair, and the third, and tallest of the three, has very light brown hair forming a triangle on their head.

I laugh lightly, before noticing the people in the picture are all holding hands, bright red smiles decorating their faces. My grin widens even further as I push the glass door open and step in, ears instantly filling with the combined voices of Blaine and Ava, talking animatedly as Blaine lowers her onto the kitchen counter in front of him and holds out a collection of takeaway menus. She takes them with eager hands before surveying them carefully, eyes focusing on each one individually.

I take advantage of the distraction and step towards Blaine, briefly wrapping my arm around his waist, squeezing gently as his body instinctively curls into mine, head falling to rest fleetingly on my shoulder. My lips fall quickly against his hair before we both straighten up, hidden smiles curling our lips as we wait for Ava to decide what we're having for dinner.


	23. Chapter XXIII

**A/N: Just a quick reminder to check dates and POV's, it does change in this one :)**

Saturday 3rdAugust 2019 (Continued)

**Blaine**

I sigh heavily as I fall back onto the sofa, muscles relaxing and back aching, head falling against Kurt's shoulder as my eyes close. I feel him laugh lightly beside me as he forces one arm behind and around my waist, the other dragging a cushion from behind him as he pulls me down, quickly and gently shuffling me around until I'm lying down properly, facing away from him, my head falling against his thigh where he's placed the cushion. Instinctively my legs rise onto the sofa, curling up as I shimmy around until comfortable, curled into somewhat of a foetal position, humming in contentment as he rests one hand against my waist, the other falling to trace down the side of my neck.

"She go bed alright?" he asks.

I nod into the cushion as a yawn shakes my body, "mmhmm," I hum, snuggling further back until I feel the heat of his body against my spine. His hand continues to run lazily up and down the column of my neck, occasionally curling behind my ear, causing a shiver to run through my body and a small groan to rumble in my chest.

"Someone's sleepy," he comments after a few minutes as I burrow closer, lifting my own hand to weave it around my waist, fingertips grazing his, lacing together before pulling his arm down, bending it up against my chest, his hand tucked beneath the other side of my neck as my hand clings loosely to the muscles of his forearm. I chuckle lightly as his fingers run through my hair, pulling it back from my face to reveal a hidden smile. My eyes open lazily; blinking up at him as I roll onto my back, his smile filling my line of sight as he grins down at me, hair slightly mussed, collarbones strangely prominent from this angle.

"M'tired s'why" I manage to say through another yawn, eyes crinkling shut as my legs unbend beneath me, hanging over the edge of the sofa very slightly. My eyes stutter open slowly as I rub at them, determined not to fall asleep before returning Kurt's small smile. "What did your dad say anyway?" I manage to ask after my yawn subsides.

He groans, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Nothing of significance really," he sighs with a small smile, continuing to run his hand lightly through my hair. I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly, signalling for him to elaborate. "He was just… shocked I guess, I mean, finally finding out why we split up," he shrugs, words becoming nervously jumbled as he avoids my eyes, instead following the path of his hand through my hair.

"What did he say? When you told him I mean," I ask, continuing to stare up at his eyes. They drop slightly at my words before he speaks.

"He seemed pretty surprised we were sleeping together for a start," he responds with a light laugh, eyes finally catching mine and sparkling. "But… I dunno," he shrugs slightly, shuffling to sit up straighter, effectively putting space between us. He avoids my eyes as he speaks, "he was… disappointed I guess, he didn't say he was but I could hear it in his voice…" he trails off sadly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"What? Because we were having sex or because you…?" I trail off, not needing or wanting to end that sentence.

"A bit of both?" he replies, seeming unsure himself. "I guess more the cheating thing. I mean, he couldn't seriously have expected two hormonal teenage boys to keep their hands off each other for a year, especially not when living in dorms not two doors away from one another," he laughs again, although it seems sad and somewhat forced. We fall into silence. Me waiting for him to continue while he struggles with his words. "He just… he didn't raise me to be a cheater," he finally admits, squirming awkwardly against me.

I sit up, removing my weight entirely from on top of him as his hand falls from my hair and his other from around my neck. They drop together onto his lap, wringing nervously as I turn to face him properly, sitting sideways on the sofa as I think carefully about what to say. "Kurt," I begin, sighing heavily because I know _exactly_what I want to tell him but I've no idea how to actually say it. My head drops to look at my lap as my mind works furiously, trying desperately to find words to express the emotions rushing through my body. "You need to forgive yourself for that night," I finally say, looking up at him with blazing eyes as I try to emphasise my point.

"But how can I? I just…" he takes a deep, heaving breath. I watch as his chest stutters slightly before he exhales heavily, tear-filled eyes finding mine. "I know it's all in the past, and it was so long ago, and- and I know that there's nothing I can do to change it but- but _fuck_," he swears, hands balling into fists in his lap before rising to push into his eyes, trying to stop the tears threatening to fall.

"Kurt," I groan lifting my hands to wrap lightly around his wrists, pulling them from his face to reveal his usually beautiful blue eyes, bloodshot and red rimmed with sadness and regret. "Stop doing this to yourself," I tell him. "I know what you're doing and it needs to stop," he hiccups, hands gripping tightly to my own, "you're punishing yourself and reliving every moment of that night, trying to figure out what you would change, what you would or wouldn't say, would or wouldn't do…" I shake my head as I speak. "But it's no use. It's pointless and you're just hurting yourself for no reason," he sniffles loudly as one tear spills from his eye and falls fast and heavy down his cheek. I raise one hand, gently releasing his to cup his cheek, wiping the tear from his jaw before looking up at him as he speaks.

"But, don't-" he gulps, swallowing a sob before continuing, "don't you do the same? Don't you… don't you look back and- and think about and worry over- over everything and try to just… just make it right in your head?" his speech falters, strangled by repressed sobs and jolts of his heaving chest.

I shake my head, smiling slowly before speaking, grip tightening on his hands, "not at all. All that matters is we found each other, and we're here now, and we love each other, and-" my voice falters as my mind reels. I manage to stop the words tumbling from my trembling lips before staring into his hopeful eyes, bright, shining blue. As deep and unfathomable as the oceans, and in that one second of hesitation I see everything I've been denying myself from seeing, everything I've been denying myself from even _imagining _because I'm terrified of it never happening. I see my life, _with him_. I see us moving in together, getting married. I see Ava growing up with two dads who adore her, I see myself growing old beside him, waking up next to him every morning and sleeping beside him every night. "And we're together and will be for a very long time," I finally say, admitting to him as well as myself what I've been dreaming of for the past few months; if not longer.

He smiles slowly, breathing beginning to calm as he looks down at his lap, raising his free hand to wipe roughly at his eyes before sniffling again and shuffling to sit facing me, his back resting against the armrest as his legs fold beneath him. After a few seconds he finally looks up, a question wavering on his parted lips as he stares at me thoughtfully. I wait patiently, giving him time to straighten his thoughts and decide his question. "So you really never… you never think about what happened and wish you could change it?" he finally asks, voice barely louder than a whisper, almost completely drowned out by the pressing silence.

I look away for a second, thinking of my answer as I run my thumb slowly over his knuckles. "I used to… like, all the time. For months afterwards I just, I relived every second. Coming up with stupid and elaborate ways I could have prevented it, until one day I just realised it was pointless. It was too late. It had happened, and I was wallowing in a world of 'what if's when I should have been thinking 'what now'" I shrug again, smiling reassuringly.

"I don't know how to- how to stop just…" he trails off, voice becoming steadier yet still quiet.

"How to stop thinking about it?" I ask, knowing exactly what that feels like.

He nods, rubbing at his tired eyes again, cheeks flushed against his alabaster skin.

I look down at his pale hands shaking in my own. We're both holding tight; too tight, knuckles white with the pressure of bone against skin and yet not nearly tight enough, too scared to feel the other slip away even slightly.

"You just need to… to realise that, in the end, it was worth it," I say slowly. His head shoots up, eyes blazing with confusion and hurt. He opens his mouth to protest but I speak too soon, "no Kurt, hear me out," I tell him, pausing as his parted lips quiver with words dying to be spoken, but then he closes his mouth and nods minutely.

"Yes," I begin, "sometimes I look back and I see all the mistakes we made," I say slowly, "I remember the promises which were broken, hearts which were shattered, tears which were shed. And I don't just mean that night," I shake my head, "but, the days running up to that night and even before that." I squeeze his hands as he swallows. "I see the mistakes_ I_ made with Matt and yeah; I regret them. Yes; I wish you hadn't slept with him, but I also wish_ I_ hadn't reacted the way I did. I wish promises _hadn't_ been broken and I wish we could sit here next to each other and boast about nine long, wonderful years together." He sniffles again as my heart breaks in my chest. "I see _everything_we could have done differently, but wishes never come true; they're meaningless, they don't matter."

He looks up at me again, attempting to smile although it looks more like a frown. I loosen my grip and weave our fingers together, fitting into the gaps between his and holding with all my strength. "But what _is_true and what _is_meaningful and what _does_matter is _us_. And there is no one in the _world_ or universe or in existence in history who I'd rather be in love with, who I'd rather wake up next to or whose voice I'd rather hear whisper my name in the dead of night." He smiles between laughs and I feel my heart somersault. "There's no one else's skin I want to feel soft against mine or whose smile I want to brighten my day. There's no one else I ever want _anything_with Kurt, because I want _everything_with you," I finish, tears welling in my eyes as I feel the weight of the world lift from my shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispers, his eyes filled once again with hot tears which stream down his porcelain skin and the smooth column of his neck.

"You don't have to thank me for loving you Kurt," I say through a laugh, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"No but, I- It can't hurt and I… I love you too," he tilts his head and smiles, "I really do. I wish I could say it as eloquently as you can but I can't and it'd be embarrassing to try but- that doesn't make it any less true. I love you with my whole heart and I-" his lips quiver as he stares into my eyes, watery and emotional, "I don't know how I ever lived without you," he finally says.

I smile in response, no more words needed as I slowly lean forward to press our lips together. His are cherry red from biting them and wet with salty tears, but I feel him smile and my heart jumps into my throat. As long as he's happy; I'm happy.

Eventually we pull away and smile shyly at one another. Both our faces slightly flushed, eyes damp with unshed tears and red rimmed, but we still smile because we're in love and together and in this moment, _unbreakable._

I can see in the way he's looking at me that he's thinking very seriously about something. I choose to give him time and instead focus my attention on our still joint hands; his pale and long against my own tanned, broad palmed ones. I lift one hand until we're pressed palm to palm, smiling at how his hand sits flush against my own, somewhat cold yet still calming as his fingers weave in between my own. He squeezes slightly, drawing my attention back to his face which is suddenly nervous looking.

I tilt my head slowly to the side, inquisitive as I wait for him to speak.

"Can I… do you mind if I…" he stammers, hands fidgeting awkwardly in mine at his eyes move cautiously between my own.

"What is it Kurt?" I ask, eyebrows furrowing as I try to discern his expression and the nervousness of his movements.

"I want to ask you something," he finally admits, glancing nervously down and biting his lip.

"Ask away," I reply with a smile, shuffling a little closer until my knees are pressed on top of his. I lean forward and nudge his chin up to look at me with my own head, keeping our hands tightly twined.

He laughs a little at my playful smile and nudge of his chin before speaking, his frightened voice contrasting with the small smile curling his lips. "I don't… I don't want to hurt you, or- or make you mad I just…"

"Just ask me Kurt, I promise I wont get mad," I assure him, leaning back to look at him properly and smiling, while inside my mind's furiously trying to guess his question from the way he holds himself; frigid and awkward, eyes averted yet hands bone white and clinging tight.

"I just wondered, well I… I always wondered what happened after, y'know… after I- after we- when I walked away," he finishes quickly, words jumbling and speech faltering, face draining of colour and hands tightening even further around my own yet still noticeably shaking.

"Kurt, seriously, stop being so scared to talk about that night. And don't ever, _ever_ be frightened to ask me or tell me anything," I tell him sternly, shaking my head as I do so, because how many times do I have to tell him? He opens his mouth, no doubt to apologise but I beat him to it. "And don't apologise!" He laughs under his breath before I raise a hand and once again force him to look at me. When he does I lean forward and kiss him again softly once on the corner of each eye, erasing the tears which are pooling there before pressing my lips against his, running my tongue slowly against his bottom lip, forcing them to part before pressing inside. The kiss is slow and languid, full of love and adoration and trust.

Eventually we both pull away; eyes drifting open with shared smiles before I start my story, picking up from the moment he left, reliving those moments for the millionth time. But this time's different. This time I'm not re-planning, I'm not erasing and re-drawing and torturing myself over what I could have changed. I'm simply remembering.

Friday June 10th 2011 (Continued)

**Blaine**

"He doesn't want to talk to me! Is that not obvious?" I fume at Wes as I motion towards my bloody and bruised face. He frowns and presents me with an ice pack. I tentatively press it against my aching nose and flinch at the pain and the cold as I lean against the kitchen counter.

As soon as Kurt disappeared, I stormed towards the kitchen, hoping to find Matt still stood where we left him, hoping I'll be able to get a few good punches in before he beats me to the ground. But he wasn't here; instead I bumped into Wes, who initially thought my ruined face was Matt's work. I assure him it isn't; it is in fact the handy work of my boyfriend. It takes some time for him to believe me, apparently finding it shocking that a nice guy like Kurt could have such a good right hook.

"Where'd he go anyway?" Wes questions, concern edging his voice.

"I don't know," I admit with a defeated shake of my head. Wes sighs beside me.

We stand in silence beside each other, both of our backs against the kitchen island, me occasionally wincing when I move the ice to a new part of my face. Eventually Wes breaks the silence, "so what _actually_ happened?" I frown slightly and tell him. I tell him about how I'd walked into the kitchen to find my current boyfriend being caressed and flirted with by my ex-boyfriend. I tell him about how I shouted at Matt, his indifference, the way he looked at Kurt. I tell him about the hunger and desire I saw burning in his stony eyes just like they had over a year ago when he looked at me. I tell him about pushing Kurt out, him shouting at me, about me trying to explain myself, and about how he eventually punched me and disappeared.

"Why didn't you just go after him?" Wes asks, as if it's obvious that's what I should've done.

"Seriously Wes? Does it look like he wanted me to go after him?" I ask incredulously with a shake of my head, once again motioning to my face and my blood stained clothes.

"Suppose," he agrees. Once again silence swallows us, both staring at nothing in particular, our minds preoccupied. "D'you know where Matt went?" he asks after about ten minutes of uninterrupted silence. I shake my head before sighing heavily.

"No idea. And I couldn't care less," I say truthfully before continuing, "he could be dead in a ditch for all I care," I flinch as I tentatively touch my fingertip to my nose.

"You don't mean that," Wes replies nonchalantly.

"I fucking do! This is entirely his fault, he's a dick!" I say, venom lacing each word.

Wes chooses to ignore my anger, instead playing the part of sensible adult. "Do you think you need to get your nose checked? It could be broken…" he trails off as I shake my head.

"No… it's fine," I say. "Seriously," I add at the disbelieving look on his face. "Honestly, I'll be fine, I just- eurgh!" I growl as a fresh stab of pain stings my face when I try to smile. This causes Wes to laugh a little, and I can't help but join in despite the pain; I must look pretty hilarious. "I just wanted to enjoy tonight with Kurt, and then _he_ had to ruin it. I'm just pissed. I'm not even bothered that Kurt punched me," Wes arcs his eyebrows, silently questioning me. "Well, I am bothered, but only at the fact that I must have really upset him. I don't care about the actual punch," I confirm for him.

He nods and sighs, turning his attention away from me to focus on the crowd of people crushed into the lobby. Silence once again washes over us, engulfing us in our own separate bubbles. We stand like this for some time. He knows me well enough to realise I don't want to talk about what's happened, and I appreciate that. But he also knows me well enough to not leave me alone, knowing I'd go hunting for Matt and only get into trouble. So we stay together but separate; his attention focused on the crowd while mine's focused on my pounding head and throbbing nose.

Eventually I glance at my watch and see that we've been stood in silence for well over 15 minutes, I decide to speak, "Wes, you're welcome to go back to the party."

He turns to face me slowly, a genuine smile creasing his face. "No, it's fine… I don't mind," he assures me, and I have to smile, he really is a great friend.

"I'm serious, you go. I'm going to head up to my dorm anyway," he frowns at me in confusion. "I want to change my shirt, and hopefully clean my face up a bit before I see Kurt. He'll probably feel awful and seeing me like this won't make him feel any better," I explain with a grimace.

Wes chuckles lightly, "I guess. I'll see you later though." I nod, "call me if you need anything yeah? And I'll let you know if I see Kurt," he smiles and I smile back in agreement. Then he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people. I turn away and back to the fridge, slinging the ice pack back in. Reluctantly I leave the safety of the kitchen and push my way through the throng of bodies, keeping my head down so as to avoid awkward questions. I finally reach the staircase and dash up; pushing my way through even more people I finally reach the hall leading to the dorms, which is thankfully empty.

I revel in the silence for a second, enjoying the feeling of being alone, before slowly heading towards my room. I turn left when I reach the end of the corridor and with a small smile I see my door only a few metres away. I quicken my pace until I'm stood right outside it, pushing the handle down I open the door.

"Blaine?" the familiar voice makes me jump, but it's different, usually so full of life and exuberance, whereas that one word is uttered as if in defeat. I turn quickly to face the direction it came from, eyes instantly falling on Kurt. He's stood a matter of metres away, outside his own dorm room. He looks exhausted; paler than usual, eyes rimmed in red, hair dishevelled, clothes hanging limply from his body, bare arms wrapped around his waist. I watch in stunned silence as his chest quivers with a sob.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" I ask quietly, scared of speaking too loud in case I frighten him further, because he already looks terrified. I notice he doesn't have any shoes on; feet bare against the wood floor. I step towards him slowly, and unlike earlier he doesn't flinch away, which I take as I good sign. I continue until I'm stood directly in front of him.

He raises one hand shakily to touch it against my bruised cheek, and although I try my hardest to not show how much it hurts I can't hide the spark of pain which darts across my eyes. "I'm so sorry," he speaks through gasps, fresh tears starting to well in his eyes.

"You don't have to apologise Kurt, it's fine," I assure him as gently as I can, tentatively reaching out a hand to hold his. He recoils slightly as my skin grazes his before pushing his hand fully into mine. I smile at the contact and look up at him, hoping he's smiling too. But he isn't, he's silently crying, thick tears falling down his pale cheeks and dripping from his jaw. "What wrong?" I ask, confusion creasing my face.

"I can't b-believe what I've d-done," he manages to stutter through strangled sobs, chest trembling as he tries hard not to cry more, hand falling from my cheek and instead covering his mouth as if to stop himself speaking.

"It's not as bad as it looks Kurt," I tell him. But he just shakes his head, "seriously, it's mostly superficial," his eyelids flutter shut as he continues to shake his head slightly. "Will you help me clean it up?" I ask, hoping to distract him if even slightly. His eyes open slowly as he stars at me quizzically, I motioned to my face, wondering what else he'd think I mean. Then he nods as if suddenly understanding what I'm talking about, lip quivering slightly as he gulps back another wave of sobs. "Okay?" I question again, just to be sure as I angle myself towards my room. He nods, and begins walking with me, the sound of his bare feet on the hard wood echoing in the empty corridor as we walk to my door. I push it open and motion for him to enter; he does so uncertainly, as if not sure whether he's allowed in.

I walk in after him and push the door shut, making my way over to my en suite before turning to face him, "I need you to help me Kurt, I can't do this alone," I tell him truthfully, only half talking about cleaning up my face. He nods and follows me into the harsh light of the bathroom.

"Shall I sit down?" I ask, hoping to get him to talk. But he doesn't, he just nods once. So I plant myself on the edge of the bath tub and frown at his silence. He's started rummaging in my medicine cabinet, no doubt looking for antiseptic; I wince at the thought of the pain which is yet to come.

A matter of minutes later he's completely cleaned my face. There are a few small cuts, nothing even worth worrying about. I have a black eye, and my nose is badly bruised, but like I'd said, the wounds are superficial, and within a few weeks there will be no trace of them left. No trace of this night left. I thank him, standing on tiptoes I try to press a grateful kiss to his lips, but he turns away, my lips falling clumsily against his jaw instead. I frown again, but decide not to question him yet. Instead I wander back into my bedroom and pull a fresh shirt from my suitcase which is already packed for leaving in the morning. He follows me and stands hesitantly in the middle of the room, refusing to make eye contact and instead staring at nothing in particular. I unbutton my blood stained shirt quickly and shrug my new one on before buttoning it up and stepping towards him.

"Kurt, what's wrong? It's not that bad!" I try to assure him again, slightly shocked by how badly he's taking this. I'm not even bothered and I'm the one who's been punched. His eyes find mine and I'm shocked to see tears building again. "Hey come on, there's no need to cry, I'm here now," I try my hardest to reassure him, offering him my outstretched arms for a hug, but it has to be his decision. He falls into them heavily, entire body shaking with renewed sobs; my confusion increasing with every second. Slowly I edge him towards the bed and lower us to sit on the edge. He rubs angrily at his eyes as I wrap a protective arm around his shoulders, pulling him towards me. He sidles over willingly and rests his head on my shoulder. Slowly his sobs subside, sniffling quieting, breathing evening out. "Did you want to go back down or…?" I try to ask, but he's already shaking his head

"C-can we just," he sniffs, "can we just stay up here please?" he asks, eyes pleading with me.

"Of course we can," I promise. "Do you want me to go and get you pyjamas?" I ask, but he feverishly shakes his head.

"Don't leave me," he practically begs as my grip loosens around him momentarily and I make to stand up.

"Okay, okay, I wont," I assure him, sitting down quickly again. We sit in silence, his head resting on my shoulder, one arm wrapped around him while his hands cling desperately to my other hand. I yawn unintentionally loudly and he moves his head to look at me. "Sorry," I apologise, although I'm not sure what for. "Just a bit tired."

"You want to go bed?" he asks, voice hardly making a sound.

"Only if you want to, I'm alright sat here," I assure him with a smile.

"I don't mind," he confesses. I nod and stand up. He whines almost silently at the loss of contact, arms remaining outstretched towards me.

"I'm just getting undressed, I can't sleep in these," I reassure him as I un-button the shirt I've only had on a matter of minutes. I tug my jeans down and pull on a grey pair of sweat pants. I look at Kurt who's sat silently, eyes trained on the floor, unmoving. I frown for what feels like the hundredth time and move to get into bed. I pull the duvet back and crawl under, assuming he'll follow; but he doesn't.

He remains in the same place for well over five minutes until eventually I've had enough, "Kurt, are you actually coming to bed or just sitting there all night?" He jumps at the sound of my voice and stands quickly, turning to face me where I lay, propped up on my elbows, waiting for my boyfriend's body heat to lull me to sleep.

"Sorry," he mutters, before moving round to his side of the bed, pulling the duvet back.

"Kurt you can't sleep in a shirt and skinny jeans," I say with a small laugh, but he doesn't laugh back. He just stares at me blankly before speaking.

"Why not?"

"You just can't, you'll hate yourself in the morning for it," I say jokingly, but he just grimaces.

"What else can I-" I cut him off by jumping out of bed.

"I'll get your pyjama's" I offer for the second time as I force the duvet back and head towards the door; it'll take all of two minutes.

"No!" he practically screams, throwing himself between me and the door. "You can't leave me," he's shaking his head as for the millionth time tears well in his eyes. I sigh, getting slightly frustrated by his childish behaviour.

"Okay, whatever," I say in defeat, heading instead towards my suitcase. I pull a spare pair of sweat pants out and a t-shirt that's always been a little too big for me. "You can wear these," I offer them to him. He takes them doubtfully and heads towards the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him; I hear the click of the lock. My face creases in confusion, he's never been shy about changing in front of me before; I've seem him naked hundreds of times. I push the thought to the back of my head and swear to myself that I'll question it in the morning, hopefully when he's feeling better. I once again hear the click of the lock and force a warm smile onto my face to greet him as he pulls the door open.

He smiles back a little shyly and walks to his side of the bed; crawling under the covers before pulling them right up to his chin, as if he's trying to get lost in them. I get in the other side and shuffle close to him, unsure of how much contact he'll allow considering the strange mood he's in. But he doesn't seem to mind as I press my body against his softly. Instead he responds by pushing closer and nuzzling as close to me as possible. He buries his head into the crook of my neck and I feel a final quiver shakes his chest against mine, before a relieved sigh falls from his parted lips. I smile and shuffled a little further down until we're face to face. I smile adoringly at him, hoping to convey just how much I love him.

He smiles back, somewhat half heartedly, but I take it as a good sign. I lean a little closer, and risk pressing my lips to his softly; he returns the kiss with a smile. I slide my tongue over his lips gently, and he complies by allowing me entry.

We kiss slowly and sensuously, my hand naturally finding its way around his waist and to the base of his spine. He's the first to pull back, and I'm shocked to see a single tear pooling in the space between his eye and the bridge of his nose. I kiss it away tenderly, making him smile before shuffling closer to me. Within a few minutes he's fallen into a somewhat restless sleep, but I remain awake for a while afterwards, my mind racing as I try to figure out why Kurt's mouth tastes of his own come.


	24. Chapter XXIV

**A/N: I apologise in advance for this chapter. **

Saturday June 11th 2011

**Kurt**

I sleep sporadically; threatening shadows with shining grey eyes stalk my nightmares. I try to escape, I really do. But I'm always too weak, too slow, too foolish and he catches me every time. He catches me as I run through the doors of Dalton, as I dash up the steps to my house, as I sprint to Blaine, hands outstretched to his, our fingers grazing lightly before _his_ hand closes around my arm and drags me back. Back to him; away from Blaine.

It's the final scenario which wakes me, the blood curdling scream in my nightmare manifesting itself into a stifled gasp as my body shoots upright. I'm literally drenched in sweat, chest heaving with each breath, heart pounding manically in my throat as if I've really been running for my life. I raise a shaking hand to cover my lips, trying my hardest to not wake Blaine with my frantic breathing; but he's sound asleep beside me.

His eyelids flicker slightly with whatever dream he's lost in, a small smile playing across his slightly parted lips. His hair has come entirely lose of its gel, falling in thick curls over his forehead and ears, practically begging for a hand to run through it. God, he's _beautiful_. He rolls over, slightly away from me to lie on his back, one arm remaining spread over to my side, as if even in sleep he's waiting for me.

I feel tears once again building behind my eyelids as realisation hits for the first time with a sober mind. _What have I done?_ I ask myself. I stand up and step away from the bed, unsure of what to do. _I've cheated_. And it isn't like it was something little, I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't condone _any_type of cheating, whether you kiss someone else or sleep with someone else, it's all wrong. But it's definitely easier to forgive a kiss than a fuck. I groan as this notion races through my mind, infesting every thought; I can't see a way out.

I creep to the door and pull it open; stepping out into the cold corridor I'm pleased to find no one else here. I listen for a second and can still dimly hear the sound of music coming from downstairs as I tiptoe to my own door. My hand rises and closed around the handle as I silently wing a prayer to a god that I don't believe in that he'll be gone from my bed. With one last, deep breath I push the door open; my bed's empty. Relief sweeps through me, filling every cell and every fibre of my body. It fills my heart and for a second makes me lightheaded. I step into the room and gently shut the door behind me before making my way over to the bed.

For the most part I can't remember the details of what happened thanks to the alcohol, it's a small mercy but I'll take it. I'll take any mercy I can get right now. However, stood at the foot of the bed I can't repress the flashbacks which blaze in my minds eye; his body hovering above me as he tugs my boxers off, wet lips closing against mine, cold hands forcing there way between my thighs, strong hands gripping my hips tighter with each thrust, loud moans, my body shaking, the unfamiliarity of his body and yet the excitement, the rush of pleasure as I came, the way his tongue felt tracing up my wet stomach, drinking me up before kissing me forcefully, making me taste myself.

I shudder as the memories rush one after another into the forefront of my mind, but this shudder is of disgust, not pleasure. With shaking hands I strip the bed, tugging the sheet loose of the mattress, the cases off the pillows and the cover from the duvet. I sling them all into one corner in repulsion. As I turn back to my now bare bed I notice my phone on the bedside table, I frown slightly as my hand instinctively shoots to my thigh where it's usually in my pocket. But I'm wearing Blaine's sweatpants, my jeans still on the floor of his bathroom. But it must be mine; it must have fallen out when he'd thrown my jeans on the floor. Walking around the bed I pick it up and unlock it.

My heart lurches as the screen fill with a picture of Blaine and I, taken not long ago in the choir room, me sat cross legged on one of the leather sofa's while he's perched on the arm rest beside me. His arm is around my waist, my head resting against his hip while I stare at whoever was speaking. Blaine however is staring at me, smiling down at me with a serene, content smile. It'd been taken during our last Warbler meeting without either of us knowing, Jeff having sneakily taken my phone from the coffee table and took the shot covertly. I complained at the time, as I always do when my photo's taken, but I secretly adore the picture.

I feel vomit rise in my throat as I stare at Blaine's carefree smile, the tight hold he has around me, the way we fit together. My hands shake as I hold tight to the phone, wondering whether Matt's looked through it. He's obviously picked it up from the floor and left it here. Does that mean he's read my texts, looked through my picture, what else has he potentially taken from me? I push the possibilities to the back of my mind as I glance at the time; 03.39 am. _What should I do?_ Should I wake Blaine now and tell him, beg for forgiveness, beg for mercy, just plain beg. Should I leave it till he wakes up? Or a few weeks from now? Maybe months? Yars? No. I can't do that. I have to tell him, but it'll kill him, and me.

Groaning I wander into my bathroom and flick on the fluorescent light. My eyes sting from the brightness and the beginnings of a hangover. I stop in front of the sink and look at my reflection in the mirror. My skin looks dimly grey in the artificial light, my eyes blood shot and red from crying, cheeks were completely void of colour, making my cheek bones look more prominent and my face thinner; unhealthy. I quickly splash some cold water onto my face, hoping to reverse some of the damage, but it's no good. Nothing can cleanse me of what I've done. In defeat I return to my bedroom and move to stand in front of the full length mirror. With slightly shaking hands I lift my top, grimacing at the array of purple and blue bruises dotting my ribs and chest. I can distinctly see hand and finger marks pressed like burns into each hip, bite marks trailing up one side of my rib, scratches down the other.

I feel tears well in my eyes again as I examine my bruised body, my lifeless face, my aching soul and broken heart, my once beautiful relationship and my now non existent future. I wipe furiously at my eyes, willing myself not to cry again as I make my way back to Blaine's room. I crawl into bed beside him and admire his sleeping form. A smile still playing across his face, and I just can't bring myself to destroy his evident happiness just yet. _In the morning,_ I promise myself as I lay awake beside him, entire body shaking as I try to sleep. After a few minutes he rolls towards me, arm falling naturally around my waist as his face snuggles into my neck. I sob silently into his hair as I pull him closer; clinging to him tightly because this is the last time I will get to hold him, to touch him, to love him. This is the end.

/

"Kurt?"

Through the fog of sleep I hear my name, followed shortly by a warm hand on the cold, bare skin of my upper arm, shaking me lightly. "Uh?" I mumble, eyes stuttering momentarily open before snapping closed again at the bright light which stings my eyes. I grumble as I roll onto my back, a dull ache making my head spin as I try once again to blink my eyes open against the harsh light of morning.

"Kurt?" I hear my name again, but this time I recognise the voice. It's a voice which has sang to me multiple time, reassured me during some of the hardest months of my life, which whispers 'I love you's and which moans my name in the dead of night. It's deep and husky with sleep but has an unmistakable urgency to it.

I finally manage to open my eyes long enough to look up at Blaine, propped up on one elbow beside me. And at the sight of his face, eyes glazed with sleep, hair mussed, it all comes rushing back. It hits me like a full force hurricane, making my head spin, hands shake, heart thrum frantically in my chest. I feel sick rise in the back of my throat, burning as I force it down and tears pool in my eyes as my chest begins to heave. I don't say anything but instead just stare up at him with lost, hopeful, sad eyes as he stares back.

He looks sad and confused. _Because I'm leaving,_I think. He's sad because I'm leaving and because this is our last morning waking up together at Dalton. I manage to hold back a sob as another thought races through my mind, _this is our last morning waking up together ever._A moment passes in which we just stare at each other, his warm, honey hazel eyes searching my cold, blue ones. Finally he speaks, the sound of his voice making my heart beat even faster because how am I supposed to tell him that I've ruined everything?

"I was woken a few minutes ago," he says almost silently, eyes darting to his hands as they move between us, and for the first time I notice he's holding his phone. My heart skips a beat as my mind lurches and my breathing stops. "By a text," he continues.

"Oh?" is all I manage to say as I push myself up on shaking arms until I'm sat facing him, legs folding beneath myself as my hands wring nervously together, palms beginning to sweat.

"Yeah," he replies shakily, also sitting up to face me properly before he looks down at the phone in his hands. "I erm…" he trails off, swallowing loudly before looking up at me, and for the first time I notice that he too has tears sparkling in his eyes, making then shine even brighter although the rest of his face suddenly looks paler than usual. "I don't-" his chest heaves as he tries to speak. "I don't understand what- how- why… I mean, it, the- the text, I don't know how he even- how he- I- I-" he rises a shaking hand to fist roughly through his hair in frustration as his eyes stay locked unmoving on my own. "Just- Kurt just- please can you…" he offers the phone to me, it shaking in his lose grip as though he can't bear to hold it any longer.

I take it, my hands shaking equally so. It feels lead-heavy in my hand, solid and unbreakable; unlike us. I look up at him, mind blank as I watch him rub at his eyes, chest swelling with ragged breaths. "I- what…" I stammer, watching the man I love fall to pieces in front of me.

"Read it," he finally says; voice suddenly strong and unwavering. I look into his eyes for the longest second, eyes which so often look at me so full of love and happiness and joy are now blank, void, empty.

Eventually I so as he's asking, sliding my numb fingertip over the screen to unlock it. It's already open on the text in question. I see a number I didn't recognise, one that isn't programmed into Blaine's phone, before I begin reading the message;

_Blaine; last night your boyfriend moaned like a whore for me. The noises he made as I slammed into him over and over and over again were simply magnificent, and his ass was so tight I have to wonder whether you've fucked him yet or whether you're being as frigid with him as you were with me. Thanks for being generous enough to share, although I still wouldn't say no to you. You're who I really came to the party to find, but at least I didn't leave disappointed. Call me when you're bored with Kurt, I'll happily fuck you, -Matt xx ps. His come tasted delicious._

My entire body is numb. I can no longer feel the soft bed beneath me, the solidity of the phone in my hand or the beating of my shattered heart in my chest. All I can feel are Blaine's eyes boring into me, burning me where I'm sat as he waits for me to tell him it isn't true, to tell him Matt's just being a dick, to tell him that I'd never, _ever,_cheat on him. But I don't do any of those things. Instead I look back up at him, silent tears breaking free of my eyes to fall fast and heavy over my pale skin; that's enough for him. That's my admittance, and through a haze of tears and regret and sorrow I watch his face crumple. I watch as his eyes flutter shut, blocking him off from me. I watch as his heart breaks.

And then once again I feel vomit burn the back of my throat and this time it's overwhelming and unstoppable as I practically catapult myself from the bed and into the bathroom, throwing my head over the toilet as my stomach churns and I heave up what feels like a life time of sins. I feel as sweat breaks out across my skin, my hair sticking to my forehead as the cold of the tiled floor seeps through the thin fabric of what I'm wearing and infests my skin, spreading through me and engulfing me so tightly that I'm terrified I'll never feel warm again.

I stay here for a minute, head bowed over the toilet seat as tears continue to fall unstoppable down my face, my chest continuing to swell with sobs as my heart breaks into smaller and smaller pieces. I don't hear Blaine get off the bed and walk towards me, but I so see as his bare feet come to rest at the doorway into the bathroom, sweat pants an inch too long and dragging on the floor, and that sight alone breaks my heart again because why does he have to suddenly look so vulnerable and fragile and breakable? And then I realise it's because he _is_breakable.

"Kurt," he whispers my name, voice pleading before he continues, "please- please tell me you're puking because you're hung over and not because- not because you're feeling g-guilty about something," I hear him breath in sharply through his nose and recognise that he's trying to hold himself together.

Blindly I grapple for the door frame, attempting to steady myself as I stand, but instead of the cold, solid wood, my hand finds the warm, softness of Blaine's. He helps me stand before dropping my hand quickly, arms wrapping around his bare waist as he looks up at me and I could see that tiny, thin, shred of hope in his eyes. _Will that be the last time I touch you?_I think before I open my mouth to speak.

There are a millions thoughts rushing through my mind, how much I love him, how much I regret it, how it's the biggest mistake of my life, how I'd do anything, _anything_at all to make this right. But as I stand here staring at him there's only one thought I'm able to voice, "I'm so sorry," is all I manage to say before a sob wracks through my aching body, through my numb bones and my cold skin and the shaking nerves which lay in between.

His mouth drops open an inch, eyebrows rising minutely as his eyes dull and tears well in them.

I step towards him, arms outstretched, needing to feel his warmth and his soft skin and his familiar body to remind me that I'm alive and this is happening and I'm losing him. But he steps away, causing me to stumble slightly, and the fact that he doesn't reach out to prevent me falling hurts like a knife straight through my skin and ribs and straight into the frantic muscle of my beating and breaking heart. "Blaine, please don't do this, I- I'm sorry! I-" I'm struggling with words, struggling with staying upright and struggling with looking him in the eye, because is pain was so evident that it causes mine to double and triple time and time again.

"'Please don't do this'?" he repeats my words back to me, head tilting to the side as he questions me, "'_Please don't do this'_?" he says again, brows furrowing as his eyes crumple and his mouth hangs open in shock. "Don't do what Kurt?" he finally asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Don't fuck everything up? Because I think you've already done that," he says, venom lacing his words as his arms straighten by his sides, hands balling into fists.

"I didn't mean to, I- we… we can fix this, I just- please I- I need you, I can't-" I stop speaking as my chest jolts in front of me, whether from uncontrollable crying or because my heart's hammering painfully hard against my rib cage I'll never know but I physically can't form words any longer, instead just strangled sobs and hiccups and stifled, halting gasps for air.

"You didn't _mean_to?" he asks, voice remaining remarkably calm compared to my own. "You didn't _fucking mean to_?" he then shouts, words ringing through my mind, voice echoing in my skull as I visibly flinch away from him. "What so, you just- you just _accidently_let him stick his cock up your ass? You just _accidently_let him fuck you? How can we possibly _fix_this Kurt? _How!_" his body shakes with anger as he backs away from me, voice growing louder with every word.

"I- I don't know but we can- we can at least try I- I- _please,_" I beg as I try moving closer to him, but he just shakes his head and glares at me, eyes so full of disgust and disbelief and hate that I'm momentarily startled into silence.

"There's no fixing this! There's no fucking fixing this Kurt!" he screeches, voice strong and unwavering. "You cheated on me! How can you think that is fixable!" he finally turns to face away from me and I watch in fear as his shoulders shake with sobs, hands balling into his hair and tugging hard.

"Blaine, please I-"

"_Don't!_Don't say my name, just- just don't," he yells as he turns to face me, mouth turned down in a scowl as he appraises me, eyes brimming with hatred. "I thought you loved me," he finally says far quieter, and those five words alone are uttered with such pain that I crumple; my knees give in as I fall to the floor in front of him.

"_I do!_" I whisper into the air which is so thick it's stifling. "I love you so much Blaine, I need you, I love you, I-"

"Stop, just- Kurt just _stop!_" he yells over me as I continue to ramble. He's shaking his head as he looks down at where I'm knelt on the floor. "You don't love me you fucking liar! If you loved me you wouldn't have let him fuck you, you- you wouldn't have cheated on me and- and let another man touch you. Fucking hell Kurt, _why?"_he asks, and I don't have an answer. There's no reason why, no reason at all. "Am I not enough for you? Am I not good enough? I could've changed," he's shouting through his sobs as his mood shifts from anger to sadness in the blink of an eye, "I'd have done anything to make you happy, to make sure you were happy to be with me Kurt, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy and-"

"You _do_ make me happy; you're all I need to be happy!" I yell in response, scrambling to my feet and rushing towards him. But he moves too quickly and before I even notice he's stepped around me, putting as much distance between us as possible.

"Don't you dare come anywhere fucking near me!" he finally screams, face red with anger, eyes blood shot from tears, body shaking with rage. "Get out!" he says through clenched teeth. I shake my head, inching towards him in the faint hope that if I can just touch him I can make him _feel_how sorry I am. "Get. _Out!_" he yells, voice far louder than I've ever heard, making my ears ring and my head throb and my heart stammer with fear.

"No Blaine I- please don't do this… I'll do anything," I stammer as I throw myself towards him, grasping his arm with shaking hands, knuckles turning white as I try desperately to keep a firm hold. But he's stronger than me, far stronger, physically, emotionally and mentally. So it's within seconds that he's peeled my fingers from his arm and pushes me away with enough force to make me stumble, the back of my hip colliding painfully with the corner of his set of drawers, making me cry out in pain.

I gasp and instinctively crane my neck over my back as I lift my top to check if I'm bleeding. I see an angry red mark appearing against the pale flesh before I hear Blaine gasp. I turn quickly to look at him, watching in confusion as his angry eyes sweep over my exposed skin, taking in the array of bite marks which decorate my side which I completely forgot about in the haze of heart ache and pain. With shaking hands I the fabric down and over the evidence but it's too late, he's moving towards me, hands quickly grasping the fabric of his t-shirt which falls loosely over me before yanking it up far enough to reveal my stomach.

He gasps again. This time louder and almost directly in my ear as I struggle to hold down the fabric he's forcibly ripping from my body. He quickly gets irritated and pushes me back until I hit the drawers again, this time much harder as I stifle a scream, he then grabs both my wrists in one hand and holds them above our heads as I squirm. His grip is tight and painful as he bends my arms at an odd angle. I continue to cry hysterically as I try to wriggle away but he won't let me as with his other hand he completely lifts the fabric from my body, tugging it violently over my arms before dropping it to the floor.

I watch in fear as he steps back, dropping my hands which I weave around my body in a feeble attempt to hide myself. On his face is a look of pure disgust. His eyes rove over the scratches and bite marks and multiple bruises which decorate my usually unblemished skin. Then the disgust morphs into sadness as he notices the faint hand shaped bruises just visible on each hip above the waistband of his sweat pants. I watch in terror as fresh tears splill from his usually smiling eyes, one now bluey-purple against his olive skin from where I hit him yesterday.

"Just- just get out," he stammers, leaning down and picking the discarded t-shirt from the floor before throwing it to me. I catch it in one hand and quickly tug it on, shivering as the cold fabric settles against my burning flesh. He's turned away from me, facing towards his window as he stare with glazed eyes, tear tracks visible on his cheeks in the harsh, unforgiving brightness of morning.

"Blaine please," I begin to beg, tentatively stepping towards him and reaching one hand out to rest against his shoulder. He scowls and shrugs it off, not even bothering to look at me. "I love you," I say as a fresh bout of tears begin to spill from my eyes.

"Well I don't love you. Now get out," he says blankly, words hitting me harder than any punch or kick or shove imaginable. They hit me straight in my heart and for the millionth time I feel it break. I feel as it's ripped it from my chest and crumpled it in front of me. I watch in despair as all the love I've ever felt in my life disappears from within me, taking with it my hopes and dreams and future and Blaine.

"Blaine I need you and I know that if- if we just try we can- we can start again, and I'll be better and I'll-"

"We cannot. Start. Again. We just can't Kurt, you ruined it. You ruined _us,_" he says almost silently as he continues to stare out the window.

"Please Blaine-" I truly am hysterical now, clinging with weak, shaking hands to his strong arms as I try to force him around to look at me, hoping and wishing that maybe if he'd just _look_at me he'll see how sorry I am, see how much I love him see that we _can_fix this.

"Kurt," he half-shouts again, pushing my hands from him as he turns to look at me. "I told you to get out," he says through clenched teeth. But I stand stock still, not trusting my legs enough to move and not wanting to anyway because even though this is the hardest, most heart wrenching, most painful moment of my life I never want it to end, because that'll mean I'll never see Blaine again. And I'd rather see angry Blaine for the rest of my life than never see him at all.

So I just stand there in front of him unspeaking as I sob uncontrollably. Shaking my head and pleading with my eyes for forgiveness. But none comes. Instead he practically growls at me as he grips my arms forcefully and walks me backwards towards the door. "No! Please Blaine! Please!" I beg. His hands are tight on my arms and I can feel the skin pinching and my nerves protesting and I whimper under his strong hold, "you're- you're hurting me! Blaine, please," I stammer as I stumble backward, instinctively trying to work my way free of his grasp as tears continue to run down my face. I push my hands up between us and manage to press them flat against his chest, trying with all my strength to push him off me but it's no use. I'm exhausted and weak and broken as he continues to force be back until I hit the wall next to the door, eliciting a stifled cry as pain shoots up my spine.

He reaches an arm around me, hand closing around the door handle but I quickly step in front of it, preventing him from opening it as he looks at me with furious, blazing eyes. "Move," He grinds out. I shake my head, silently refusing. His grip of my arm tightens, making me visibly wince before he repeats himself, "I said, _move!_" Once again I shake my head before words begin to fall nonsensically from my lips, because I know as soon as I leave this room everything will be over. We'll be over and my life will be over.

"Please Blaine, please don't do this, we can make this work again, we can! I'll- I'll give you all the time you need and I love you! I- I'm so sorry, I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I-"

"No! Stop fucking lying!" he screeches in my face, so close I can see the various blues and purples which make up his bruise. I can see the faint swelling and the tiny cuts which accompany it. "You don't know a fucking thing about what hurts! What hurts is worrying all night over why your boyfriend cried himself to sleep only to wake up in the morning and discover it's because he fucked someone else! What hurts is seeing your boyfriend's body and knowing another man touched him when he's supposed to be _yours_! What hurts Kurt, is knowing that while I was down in the fucking kitchen nursing my face after you fucking punched me, you were up here moaning like a whore! And then, _and then,_you had the god damn audacity to come to _me_for fucking comfort and to crawl into _my_bed and fucking cry when it's _all your fault._It's you're fault we're over. It's your fault I don't love you. And it's your fault that you're on your fucking own again!" he screams as he pushes me out of the way of the door, knocking me hard against the solid wood wardrobe which stands there. My shoulder hits it painfully hard, followed by my head which snaps to one side and slams into it.

I cry out in pain, one hand instinctively rising to hold my bruised head before I feel him tightly grab my arm, whimpering again as pain seems to overwhelm every inch of me, my bruised and scratched body, throbbing head and breaking heart, arms which will no doubt be bruised with his hand marks, hips bruised with Matt's. I then hear in a confused daze as the door swings open and I stumble as I'm pushed out, my eyes unfocused as I look up and become vaguely aware of bodies around us, heads peering out of doors and down corridors as I try to find the one face which for the past year has held nothing but love.

But now it just holds hate. "Please," I beg one last time, stepping towards him, knowing it to be useless but trying nonetheless because I have nothing left to lose.

"Don't fucking touch me Kurt," he screams, pushing me off of him hard enough that I stagger backwards a few feet, swaying unsteadily until I hit the opposite wall, head cracking back against it as I fall limply down, landing in a tangled, broken heap on the floor. I continue to sob as I press a cautious hand to my head, feeling a stab of pain as I press on the lump which has already risen. "I never want to see you again. _Never!_Don't ever try to- to find me! Or talk to me! Okay? I never want to see you're stupid fucking face again! You're dead to me!"

And with that final farewell he slams the door shut and silence reigs.

Much of what happens afterwards is a blur. I have a strange memory of many faces staring at me while I crumple even further into the floor and cry into the silence. I remember Jeff helping me stand and I remember weeping into the soft fabric of his pyjama's. I have a hazy memory of screaming when people try to help me into my dorm and of David supporting me down the stairs and calling Finn to pick me up, the sight of my already packed suitcases being left by the doors. I vaguely remember being sat on one of the large leather sofas while I waited, sobs still wracking my body as an endless stream of tears cascade down my cheeks. I remember the pounding, throbbing, unrelenting headache I had and the way my eyes stung. The way I flinched when someone rubbed my back. I remember an unbelievable amount of shouting emanating from Blaine's dorm before everyone was quiet.

I vaguely remember people coming to say goodbye to me, sad, apologetic faces and pitying eyes. I remember Finn's tight bear hug as soon as he saw me, even though he had no idea what'd happened, and I remember the way he packed all my stuff into his car before helping me into the passenger seat, promising that he'll drive back later in the week with Rachel to get my car. I remember the way he turned the radio off and didn't ask what was wrong. I remember him pulling up about ten minutes into the journey and tugging a folded blanket from the back seat before tucking it over and around me. It was one I'd brought from home and kept in my dorm. It was Blaine's favourite; it smelt of him. I buried my head into the downy fabric and cried even louder, pulling it over my head and losing myself in a world of his smell and his smile and his eyes.


	25. Chapter XXV

Wednesday 21st August 2019

**Blaine**

I roll over onto my side and with a defeated sigh grab my phone from the bedside table, unlocking it quickly and momentarily squinting at its shocking brightness before I'm able to focus on the time. It's 2.48 am. On Ava's fourth birthday. And I'm officially freaking out.

Admittedly, there's no reason for me to freak out, or to even be the slightest bit stressed. Everything's organised and arranged, mostly thanks to Kurt and his secret love of planning events, even if it is a child's birthday party. Although I do like to think I've been instrumental in the most important decisions, like choosing the colour of the bouncy castle for example. But everything else has been down to Kurt.

I tried to help, I actually _wanted_ to help, but whenever I tried to take the phone from him or peer into the little folder he allowed Ava to decorate in Disney Princess stickers, he'd affectionately bat my hand away and just smile at me, eyes shining with happiness. So, thanks to Kurt, invites have been sent, the bouncy castle's hired, a party outfit has been picked out and is hanging pre-ironed on the back of Ava's bedroom door. My fridge and freezer are full of party food, various bottles of juice and fizzy drinks have been stacked in one corner of the kitchen and a good portion of my own bedroom is taken up by a cardboard box full of pink and purple decorations. Balloons to be blown up, silver streamers, pink cardboard plates and cups with silver stars all over them and a shiny silver table cover.

"The rest's in my spare room, I'll bring it over in the morning," Kurt told me when he left earlier this evening.

"_The rest!_" I half yelled, eyebrows shooting up in shock as I tried to think of anything he hasn't already filled the corners of my home with.

"Yeah, don't look so scared Blaine," he'd laughed, leaning forward to kiss me lightly before pulling the door open to leave. "Trust me," were his final words as with a bright smile and light wave he disappeared down the street.

And I do trust him; emphatically. I just don't trust myself to follow the morning schedule he's set me. After one particularly panicked afternoon of party planning he wrote me a list of what to do before he arrived, even being thoughtful enough to write down how long each task should take. I scoffed at him at first, but that scrap of paper now lies like a bible beside my bed, ready for me to hold like a life line until he arrives at 10am.

I sigh again as I roll onto my back, phone still in hand as my finger hovers over Kurt's name. I really shouldn't ring him, he'll be sarcastic and grumpy and his voice will be rough with sleep. I smile as I press his name, realising that I like sarcastic, grumpy, sleepy Kurt much more than I probably should.

I hold the phone to my ear as it rings and rings, almost clicking over to voice mail before he answers, voice unmistakably irritated and deep, almost gravely, "what?"

My eyes fall shut as I smile; god, I love him so much. "Hi," is all I say in response, unable to keep the grin from infesting my voice. He replies with a muffled groan as I imagine him rolling onto his side, snuggling deeper beneath the cover. I imagine the warmth that surrounds him, contrasting with the other half of his bed which remains undisturbed; cold and empty. I automatically glance over at the empty side of my bed and wish he was here, soft and warm and reassuring as I struggle to sleep. "Did I wake you?" I ask, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes," he replies starkly, offering nothing more to the conversation.

So for a moment we both lie in silence, phones pressed hot against our ears as we listen to the breathing of our lover who lies no more than five miles away, and yet five miles too far. "I miss you," I whisper eventually.

I feel more than hear him smile before he replies, "I miss you too. Although, we only saw each other what… four hours ago?"

I laugh lightly, grinning up at my ceiling as I respond, "Four hours is too long,"

"I couldn't agree more," I open my eyes and sigh, my mind already calmed just by hearing his voice. "Was there a point to this call? Or did you just want to wake me?" he asks. I hear the laughter in his voice.

"Just…" I shrug, even though I know he can't see me, "wanted to hear your voice I suppose," I finally admit, having no other excuse but the truth.

There's a pause, no longer than a heartbeat but a pause none the less as he realises what's wrong, "you're worrying aren't you?"

I hesitate before answering, "yes."

He sighs dramatically, "I've told you; there is nothing _at all_to worry about. It'll be the… children's birthday party of the year, I assure you."

"But what if people don't come?"

"Blaine… we're offering free food and a bouncy castle. Most of the parents are probably looking forward to this just as much as their kids."

I laugh because he's right. "Thanks," I smile as I press the phone closer to my ear, his voice having to suffice when really I want nothing more than the heat of his skin against mine, "I'm sorry for waking you."

"I expect you to make it up to me in full next time we're alone," he replies somewhat flirtatiously, although I can hear the yawn he is stifling and the tiny hum which accompanies it.

"I will. Goodnight, I love you," I say, unable to resist smiling into the darkness of the night.

"Love you too," he whispers, his voice already noticeably drowsy and slow. I hang up, place my phone back on my bedside table and as those three words repeat like a lullaby in my head my mind is overcome with sleep.

/

Standing in the doorway looking out over my back garden I smile. The sun is high in the sky and shining blissfully bright and hot, the sky is a clear blue and for once in my life I'm on schedule. The bouncy castle people have arrived and are currently setting it up, a fold away table has been put up outside, decorated and full of most the food Kurt had prepared the night before while the inside table strains under the weight of what looks like a years worth of juice and lemonade. Streamers hang from the tables and the railing which runs the length of the decking, chairs from inside have been moved outside and various blankets decorate the grass for the children to sit on.

I hear the slamming of a car door followed by high pitched laughter. _Kurt,_I think as my heart rate increases automatically. I turn and rush to the front door, swinging it open quickly as Ava rushes up behind me, sprinting past me and towards Kurt. He's just finished unloading his stuff from the taxi he's arrived in, handing the driver the money before turning at the sound of the door opening, a smile already creasing his face, eyes squinting slightly in the sun before he leans down and swoops Ava up into his arms, swinging her high above his head as she giggles loudly, her sparkling purple dress flowing behind her before he brings her down and squeezes tightly before leaning back to smile widely at her.

"Is it someone's birthday today?" he asks her, unable to keep the wide grin off his face. She giggles again and nods, dark curls bouncing either side of her face. "Is it my birthday?" he asks feigning ignorance, she laughs even louder, shaking her head as he moves her to sit on one of his hips, reaching behind himself with his free hand to pick up a glittery silver gift bag which lays just out of her sight. "Is it _your_birthday?" he finally asks. Her laughter is loud and high pitched, eyes shining in the sun as she nods enthusiastically, her little hands reaching forward to hold his face as he laughs back, her tiny body wriggling excitably in his arms. "Well then I guess this must be yours," he tells her as he pulls the bag around and holds it up for her.

She squeals and lunges forwards, arms outstretched and flailing wildly as she tries to take it from him. I make my way towards them, grinning as I discretely take in what Kurt's wearing. Light blue skin tight jeans which cling to his thighs and the muscles of his calves, a loose, pale cream t-shirt which blends so well with his skin that it's almost impossible to see where his skin ends and the fabric begins, and a pair of cream, suede brogues, an inch of white sock just visible. Over his shoulder is a beige leather messenger bag, and hanging from that a black and cream scarf covered in very recognisable skulls. I can't help but wonder whether he owns anything that isn't designer.

When I reach them I delicately reach my hand out and press it against the small of his back, Ava is too distracted to notice as he turns and smiles down at me, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly.

"Not yet Ava," I tell her, stepping around her flailing arms to take the bag from Kurt. He releases it and presses a quick kiss to her forehead as she frowns at me, her bottom lip sticking out as she stops fidgeting and glares at me.

"Why not? It's my birthday!" she says, using the same excuse she used this morning when she decided she wanted chocolate pancakes and chocolate milkshake for breakfast.

"You get your presents when all the guests arrive," I tell her with a smile, ruffling her hair lightly as Kurt puts her down. She just scowls and stomps dramatically back into the house. I hear Kurt laugh as I turn to face him. I roll my eyes before turning to all the stuff he's brought with him, "What… what _is_all of this?" I ask in shock.

"Just some last minute stuff," he smiles, turning with his hands on his hips to face the bags.

"What is _that_!" I ask, my eyes catching on a gas canister stood amongst the bags.

"Helium," he replies.

"Helium?"

Kurt pauses as he looks at me, head cocking minutely to the side before he replies, "For the balloons," he tells me slowly. I make a tiny 'oh' noise, nodding dumbly because really… what else would he bring helium for? "You're just too perfect sometimes," he tells me, stepping forward with a wide grin on his face before wrapping his long arms securely around my neck.

I blush and lean into him. "I've had a stressful morning, it's not my fault I'm not thinking completely logically," I reply, unable to wipe the smile from my face as my hands fall naturally against his slim waist, slowly curling around his body to press us flush against one another. He laughs above me before leaning down, his lips pressing against mine in one of the sweetest, most delicate kisses I've ever experienced. Groaning I slide my tongue along his bottom lip, his arms tightening around me almost imperceptibly as his lips part, tongue slowly lapping against my own before tickling the roof of my mouth, making me gasp and desperately press closer.

He chuckles as he pulls away, licking his lips as he steps back, straightening his top and readjusting the bag on his shoulder before smirking at me through thick lashes. I smile back, unable to resist the pull of his oceanic eyes, and just as I step towards him again, one arm lifting to cup his cheek, a shout emanates from deep within the house, "Da-ad!"

I screw my eyes shut, hand just resting against his now flushed cheek, warm beneath my palm as I sigh and turn around. "Wha-at!" I shout back, mirroring her exasperated tone. She doesn't reply. I shake my head as I turn back to Kurt who's silently laughing, grinning so wide I can see his gums. I lean up onto my tiptoes quickly, catching him off guard as I kiss his smile, hand quickly moving around to the nape of his neck, weaving into his soft hair as he kisses back forcefully, his own hands grabbing at my hips as he sucks the breath from my lungs.

"Da-ad!" She shouts again, far louder than before, and as always I'm shocked that a little girl of her size and adorableness can scream quite so loud. I practically growl as I pull away from Kurt and turn towards home.

"What Ava!" I shout back, moving to stand in the doorway, glancing down the hall into the kitchen to see where she is. She appears at the top of the stairs, frowning as she looks down at me, still pouting as I raise my eyebrows, expecting her to speak when instead she just stands in silence, watching me with furious eyes. "Why did you shout me?" I finally ask, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

"You were mean to me," she says, chubby little arms folding moodily in front of her.

"No I wasn't," I reply, replaying what's just happened in my head to see if I had been mean.

"You were, by not let me have my present," she finally says, and I watch as tears well in her hazel eyes. Struggling to hold back a smile I slowly climb the stairs to her, stopping a few from the top so we're face to face.

"I told you before Kurt got here that all your presents would be saved until later sweetie," I tell her kindly, holding my hand out for her to take.

She looks me over, her eyes darting briefly to my hand before locking again on my own. I watch as her chest swells with a deep breath before she sighs; defeated. "But…" she begins to argue, "I didn't know that counted Kurty's also," she says quietly, her head falling to one side as she pouts again, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand.

"Of course that counts for Kurt too, why wouldn't it?" I question, moving up another step before sitting sideways on the one just below where she's stood, turning to smile at her.

"Well because Kurty's not like the other people coming," she says, moving to sit on the step above mine, her bare feet resting against my thigh where it's bent onto the step, her hands fiddling with the ruffles of her dress.

"How do you mean Av?" I ask, pushing her long hair over her shoulder so I can see her face.

"Well he's always here with us. I thought his present would count like yours does 'cause I got to open yours straight away and then because he's here all the time… I mean, not so much as you because you live here, but Kurty is here lots so I thought I could open it when he got here," she admits in one long breath, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as if trying to work out how she's got it so wrong.

"Do you mind Kurt being around lots?" I ask her, figuring it's the perfect time to ask.

Her head shoots around to look at me, eyes brimming with emotion as she shakes her head frantically. "No… No I don't mind him being here lots. I love Kurty, even when he refuses to paint with me when he's wearing his fancy clothes and then that time when he spilt his drink on my yellow bear and she had to go in the spinning machine," she's shaking her head disapprovingly, and in that moment she reminds me so much of her mother that my heart swells with love and sorrow.

I smile at her, stroking her hair back from her face and wiping away the tears which have welled in her eyes. "Good. Because hopefully, Kurt will be around for a long time, if you're okay with that?" I ask, needing to hear how she feels about what I'm hoping is inevitable, because her happiness will always be the most important thing to me. Far more important than my own.

She sniffles slightly, holding onto my shoulder with a tiny hand as she steadies herself and stands up, leaning down slightly to ruffle the layers of her dress before smiling at me with wide, sparkling, hopeful eyes. "I'm okay with that," she finally says. I grin widely and move to stand up, holding my hand out for her to take as we descend the stairs, my heart swelling with happiness because I finally know for sure that Ava is happy with Kurt being around. As her soft hand slips into my own and our feet fall into step together she speaks again, her voice determined, "but, if Kurty is going to be with us forevers can we _please_find him some painting clothes? 'Cause then he has no excuse to not paint with me," my heart skips a beat at the mention of 'forever' with Kurt before I begin to laugh, glancing down to grin at her as she watches where she walks.

"Of course we can," I say as we reach the bottom step, she looks up at me and smiles contently before jumping off the final step, her grip automatically tightening on my hand as I steady her as she lands.

It's only when we reach the bottom step and turn towards the kitchen that I notice Kurt has moved all the stuff in from outside. He's stood with oven mitts on as he removes food from the oven before slipping more in and quickly rearranging the temperature dial. He hears us approaching and glances up, smiling as we walk towards him. I notice the silver gift bag sat on top of the table, teetering on the edge against a bottle of lemonade.

"Okay Av, you can have Kurt's present early," I say, giving in because what she's said is true. Kurt isn't just a guest, he's _Kurt,_and what I haven't realised is he isn't just another 'grown-up' to Ava; she see him as _her_friend too. He plays with her dolls with her and admires her sparkly clothes, he bakes cupcakes and holds her tiny hands in his while he shows her how to ice them. He laughs at her jokes and sneakily buys her nail polish which he thinks I don't notice.

Her head shoots round to look at me, eyes wide and glassy with surprise, lips falling open as if to question me before she stops herself, instead squealing in delight, a noise so high pitched it makes my ears ring as she runs to the table and grabs the bag with greedy, insistent fingers.

Kurt smiles just as widely as he slips the gloves from his hands and leans back against the kitchen counter, he catches my eye and his smile grows, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the sun streams through the window and lights up his face.

Ava is oblivious to our shared smiles as she delves into the bag, both arms sinking in right up to her under arms, and it almost looks like she's going to dive in until she pulls out a present wrapped in Disney Princess paper. She squeals again, hands squeezing tight before unceremoniously ripping the paper apart, her eyes wide and frantic as from within the paper falls a bundle of fabric. Kurt and I are laughing as with an excitable scream she scrambles to pick it up, hands furiously working to right it and hold it up.

She gasps as she finally holds it up the right way. It's a white dress with pink polka dots, a small collar with a bow to one side; pleats decorate the front and cause the hem to flare at the bottom while a small belt ties around the middle with a golden clasp. She holds it against herself, twirling to face Kurt as the fabric swirls behind her. She's grinning from ear to ear as she looks up at him, her cheeks slightly flushed and hair ruffled, breathing somewhat erratic before she throws herself at him, arms clasping around his legs as the dress gets crushed beneath her.

"Thank you Kurty, it's so pretty, I love it, it my favouritest. I love it!" She shouts into his trousers, squeezing him even tighter before he reaches down to lift her in his arms. She cuddles into him and continues to smile slightly manically as she presses a wet, happy kiss to his cheek, squealing again as she holds the dress at arms length to admire it. That's when I notice the label on the hem of the neck; he wouldn't… would he? I take a step forward to try and get a better look, but Ava moves, draping it over her arm before squeezing Kurt tightly again and rocking excitably in his arms, and for the first time I notice his reaction. He's smiling just as widely; he's ecstatic, revelling in her joy. And then Ava says something neither of us expect, something which seems to slip from her lips without so much as a second thought, "I love you Kurty," she tells him, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder as her arms weave tighter around his neck, eyes falling closed.

My eyes dart up to meet Kurt's, who for a fraction of a second looks startled, before a slow smile spreads across his features and his eyes begin to sparkle and I can almost see as a part of his heart breaks off and fixes itself to Ava's.

"I love you too," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "and I'm glad you like your present."

Just then we are interrupted by the guy's who'd been putting up the bouncy castle. They tell us it's all set up and they'll be back later to collect it before outlining the rules for what feels like the hundredth time. I smile, nod and thank them and before long they've disappeared. Ava gives Kurt one last squeeze before wriggling from his grasp and darting out the back door and straight onto the bouncy castle. I watch as she runs and jumps, dark hair dancing around her face as she smiles with the innocence only a child has.

Slowly I turn my attention back to Kurt who's smiling to himself as he folds the dress and places it on the table. He doesn't realise I'm watching until he looks up. My heart flutters as his smile widens when he looks at me, stepping towards me before with a quick glance outside to make sure Ava is thoroughly distracted, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. I sigh as his lips fall against my exposed collarbone and my hands automatically grasp his waist, holding him against me as my eyes fall shut and he languidly kisses up my neck and along my jaw before finally pressing against my lips. I moan shamefully loudly because _fucking hell_does he know how to use his tongue as he forces my lips open and licks teasingly slowly against my own, his hands burrowing into my hair and causing a shiver to race down my spine as he groans between my lips.

"K-Kurt," I stutter his name against his lips and feel as he smiles and presses forward, deepening the kiss as one hand tugs at my hair and the other ghosts over the muscles of my arm. "Kurt," I repeat his name, forcing my hands between us and pushing him lightly away. He takes the hint and steps away, both of us automatically glancing outside. But Ava is still blissfully unaware, running and jumping into the walls of the bouncy castle with increasingly louder giggles. "What… what was that for?" I manage to ask, pausing to catch my breath because he really is an extraordinarily good kisser.

"I was distracting you," he says with a wry smile and a shrug. That's when I remember the tag on Ava's dress and my eyes instantly fall on it. I walk over and picking it up turn it until the label faces upwards. My heart sinks.

"Kurt…" I begin, turning back to face him only to see he's facing away from me, peeking into the oven, the fabric of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he leans down, the dimples at the base of his spine just visible.

"Stop," he says, and for a moment I think I've been caught in the act of visibly gawping, until I realise he's actually telling me to stop talking

"Stop what?" I ask, watching the nodules of his spine move beneath thin, creamy fabric.

"I don't want to have this argument," he says, closing the oven door and turning back around to face me.

"What argument?" Since when are we arguing?

"The whole 'I'm serious Kurt, it's too much money. You should take it back, please take it back' argument," he replies, dipping his head from side to side as he puts on a slightly deeper voice which I can only assume is meant to be me.

"You don't know that's what I was going to say," I reply, holding back a smile.

"Well… weren't you?" he asks, arms crossing defensively in front of him.

I hesitate, "… okay fine, yes, I was; but only because it's true. I don't even want to know how much this cost," I say, holding the dress up, "but it's far, _far_too much Kurt! It's beautiful but she's _four_, she doesn't need designer clothes."

"I didn't get her it because it's Gucci. I got her it because I knew she'd love it. And it wasn't all that much," he replies, uncrossing his arms and walking towards me. He laughs at my incredulous expression before continuing, "I'm serious, it really wasn't, and it was worth every penny for that reaction."

"But-" I try to argue, positive that it would have cost a lot more than he's making out.

"Don't," he stops me with a finger against my parted lips. "I got her it because I knew she'd love it and because I wanted to make her happy and because I love her, and if that's not a good enough reason to spoil someone then I don't know what is," he tells me defiantly, eyes darting between my lips and eyes before he turns and walks away, heading towards the bags which still lay unpacked on the floor.

I decide to let it go, knowing him well enough that he won't listen to a word I say anyway. So instead I follow after him, quickly slipping my arms around his waist from behind, dragging him back until he's flush against me, my feet coming to rest either side of his, his back warm against my chest. "Does this mean I can spoil you?" I whisper in his ear. His head falls back to rest on my shoulder as he laces his hands with mine which cling to his body.

"Mmhm…" he mumbles as I suck gently on the curve between his neck and shoulder, darting my tongue out to trace behind his ear before sucking the lobe between my teeth, I watch as his eyes stutter closed and his lips fall into an easy smile. Then suddenly he turns in my arms until we're chest to chest and his eyes are trained on my lips as he licks his own and speaks, "you already sp-"

I kiss him forcefully, cutting him off midsentence as my need to taste him overwhelms me, and as much as I love to hear his voice, sometimes I just love to hear him moan more. He gasps, sucking the air from my lungs as he presses hungrily back, hands fisting the fabric of my shirt and just at that exact moment there's a pounding on the door.

We both jump back startled, hearts hammering as our heads snap round to look at the door. And then we both begin to laugh, catching each others eye and smiling, rolling our eyes because who were we expecting to be stood there? For a moment it's like we've gone back in time to the hundreds of heated make out sessions, among other things, in Kurt's living room or kitchen or bedroom which had often been interrupted by a gentle cough, a key in the lock, or indeed a knock on the door.

I lean up onto my tiptoes and press a final, light kiss to his lips before moving to answer the door. I pull it open to find Molly, Ava's best friend, stood on the step with her mum, Hazel behind her. We greet each other with a hug before the sound of Ava running down the hall interrupts. She quickly grabs Molly's hand and drags her in, shouting, "hey Mrs. Molly!" over her shoulder before they both disappear out the back door. I turn and smile at the woman stood in front of me, thanking her as she hands a neatly wrapped present over. We chat for a few minutes before she says she's got to go and drop her older son off at his karate class. She thanks me a second time for having Molly early and I tell her it's no problem; she's done me the same favour enough times for me.

The rest of the day passes drama free. Kurt and I finish up preparing the food and have far too much fun blowing up the balloons, both near tears at the sound of his already high voice intensified by helium. By the time the other children begin to arrive we're wonderfully prepared. A few other parents stay, especially those who live nearby, all seeming to sneak a few minutes on the bouncy castle just as Kurt said they would. There are no injuries, apart from one boy who misses the bottom step of the decking and falls face first into the grass. Luckily he's small enough to not hurt himself and instead just stands back up, looking somewhat startled before racing over to his mum.

Luckily the sky remains cloud free and the sun wonderfully warm. The food's almost completely devoured by the end of the day, wrapping paper litters the grass and shoes are scattered throughout the garden by the time parents start arriving to pick up their children.

It's easily gone 9pm by the time Kurt and I are able to fall exhausted onto the sofa in the living room, bouncy castle removed, garden cleared of rubbish, salvageable food wrapped and put away, a drained Ava sound asleep in bed. The decorations are still up and balloons still float above our heads, but it can't hurt to keep her birthday decorations up for another day we tell each other, because we're both far too tired to care right now.

Kurt's sat next to me, head resting on my shoulder, eyes closed, breathing calm and deep. I smile at the sound of his breathing, the rhythmic humming of life. I shuffle slightly, pulling him with me as I lay down flat on my back. His eyes blink open slowly before a lazy smile curls his lips and he shuffles down to lay with me. He falls into the gap between my body and the back of the sofa, head nuzzling with a hum into the hollow of my neck, arm falling protectively across my chest as my own weave around his waist and drags him closer, so close that he's lying half on top of me, breath tickling my collarbone, lips falling against my Adam's apple.

We lay like this for an immeasurable amount of time, swimming in the heat of one another as the sound of our synchronised heart beats fill our ears. My hand runs languorously through his silk hair, causing tiny murmurs of contentment to ripple from in his chest, his hand tracing patterns along the ridges of my ribs. I duck my head just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. He smiles but doesn't open his eyes, instead just shuffling a little higher before moving towards me, lips moving against my neck, searching for my own before he finds them and kisses me softly.

We kiss slowly for some time, tongues moving together in a familiar, well practiced dance, hands running slowly over bodies before dipping beneath thin fabric and against soft skin, goose bumps unfurling down spines as hands dip to the smalls of backs, pressing closer and into the napes of necks, tugging lightly until we're impossibly close, legs tangled together, breath hitching and bodies beginning to ache for more before a tiny, almost inaudible voice breaks the dense silence.

"Dad?" Everything stops. Our hearts stop, as does our breathing. Our hands stop moving, Kurt's tangled in my hair while mine sit pressed heavy against his spine, our lips stop and pull apart slowly, eyes snapping open with shared looks of shock and disbelief and a hint of fear. We're momentarily frozen before Ava drags us straight back to reality. "Eww!" she groans, "are you two kissing?"

I slowly turn to face her. She's stood in the doorway, hair tied back in a plait, new, flowery pyjamas on and a yellow bear tucked under her arm. Swallowing the lump in my throat I detangle myself from Kurt, who still seems to be frozen by shock. I swing my legs off the sofa and sit up. I rub tiredly at my eyes and look back up at her. She's staring at me expectantly. "Why is it 'ew' Ava?" I ask, needing to know whether she's unconsciously referring to the fact we're both male.

"It just is… kissing is icky," she replies, as if it's the simplest question in the world. I continue to stare at her, cocking my head to the side minutely as I try to read her, but it's near impossible as she continues to stare at me with wide, honey eyes. "Once…" she begins, and I watch as she steps towards me, a frown wrinkling her forehead, "round Molly's, we saw her mummy and daddy kissing and Molly said that they do it all the time and her brother told her it was icky," she begins to nod as if to emphasise her point.

"So it's not… it's not icky because me and Kurt are both boys?" I manage to ask, terrified of the answer because a four year old doesn't tell you what you want to hear to spare your feelings, a four year old tells you what they actually think with no thought to your feelings.

Her head falls inquisitively to the side before she replies almost instantly, "No…" she seems confused as she frowns. "Daddy, I already know you like boys instead of girls," she says, shaking her head as if I'm being silly in thinking this would bother her, "kissing is just icky no matter who's doing it. I'm never going to kiss a boy," she finally admits with a smile and a firm nod, "or a girl," she adds after a moments thought.

I close my eyes as relief floods my body, not having realised just how daunting the thought of explaining this to Ava was. I grin at her widely, and she smiles back. "So… would it bother you if Kurt and I kissed more often?" I ask.

She crinkles her nose, "I guess not…" she finally says, "but only if you come and get this giant spider out my room," she bargains with me. I feel as a smile spreads across my face as I nod.

"Of course sweetie," I say, standing up and taking her hand as she leads me to her room. Within minutes she is tucked back into bed in a spider free room, covers pulled up to her chin, her body curled around her teddy, hair splayed against the pillow. "Night Av, love you," I whisper as I lean down and press a kiss to her temple. I see her smile before she snuggles further beneath the duvet.


	26. Chapter XXVI

Friday 6th September 2019

**Blaine**

I've spent the majority of the past few months falling back in love with Kurt, and I've definitely fallen far further than ever before. I'm more in love with him now than I'd ever been in the past, I'm in love with his voice, his smile, his neck, eyes, eyelashes, collarbones, lips, hands, legs, hips; _everything._I love the way he rolls his eyes and how he moves his hands, the hesitancy with which he touches me sometimes and then the ferocity when he just _needs_me. I'm in love with the fact he needs me. I'm in love with how he makes me feel; happy, content, calm, desired, wanted, _loved._Always loved. I can hear it in the way he says my name; whether whispered when we're in a crowded room or gasped through uproarious laughter, whether shouted across a busy road or moaned into the night; it's always full of love.

That's why after my first three days back at work Kurt's is where I disappear to in the hope he can remind my life isn't ruled by the four walls of a classroom. It's strange really that the school I teach at is a twenty minute walk from Kurt's while it's a 40 minute drive from mine. I'd always begrudged the commute, always having to tell myself it was worth teaching at a good college and worth Ava going to a good school. _Things didn't turn out too bad_, I think as I climb the few steps to Kurt's front door and knock lightly, already smiling at the thought of spending the night with him.

The door swings open and I'm greeted with a predatory smile and a hand closing around mine before dragging me in, the door slams shut behind me and before I know it my jacket is being forced from my shoulders, bag snatched from my grip before being dropped to the floor.

"Hi," I say, smiling in confusion as then gasping as his teeth close painfully around the skin of my neck. "I've missed you too," I joke as his hands frantically pull my shirt free of my trousers before darting beneath the fabric, cold against my warm skin and making me jump slightly.

"I've more than fucking missed you Blaine," he murmurs against my skin, pressing himself forward slightly so I can feel his erection rub against my hip bone. I laugh because snappy, sassy, swearing Kurt is simply delectable.

"Oh yeah?" I tease, moving my hands to pull his face up to mine.

"It's been too long," he tells me quickly before slamming his lips against mine in a rough, wet, delicious kiss, all teeth and tongue and bumping noses as he rubs his groin against me harder and furiously unbuttons my shirt.

"Four days I believe," I say as his lips move swiftly down the contours of my neck.

"Exactly. Far too fucking long," he curses again, and hearing such sinful words from a mouth so sweet sends shivers up my spine as I arc towards him, gasping as his teeth close around one nipple, sucking it between eager lips. "D'you want to know something Blaine?" he asks, standing up swiftly in front of me, eyes blazing with lust and I shudder as I feel his hand push between my legs, moving teasingly slowly upwards before stopping an inch from my cock.

I gulp and nod, suddenly not trusting myself to form words as I look up at him, a shiver running down my spine as he inches closer, cocking one eyebrow before whispering warm and seductively in my ear, "I've been so horny these past few days," he tells me, catching the lobe of my ear between his teeth as my mouth falls open in shock and a wave of lust crashes through me.

"You-you have?" I stutter, rapidly losing the ability to form sentences.

"Mmhm," he hums in my ear, raising his hand that final inch before cupping me through my trousers, squeezing gently and making me jump before he presses a leg between mine, his thigh parting my own slowly as he continues to hum against my skin, tongue lapping against my pulse.

"How-how come?" I stutter as my cock begins to ache between us.

He doesn't answer straight away, but instead with one hand he gently takes hold of both of my wrists and raises them above my head, holding them there before pressing the entire length of his body against mine, pressing me hard against the door while his other hand trails under my shirt and runs desperately over the tensing muscles of my stomach, nails scraping over sensitive skin.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he finally whispers as his weight presses against me, "and all I can think about," he buries his head into my shoulder, "is you," his hand moves up my body to quickly undo the final buttons "sat at your desk," he kisses down my chest as the fabric falls open, "in your glasses," I feel his erection rub against my thigh, "and a tweed jacket, looking hot as fuck, being all authoritative," he continues to whisper against my burning flesh as the tightness in my trousers begins to hurt and my head falls back, hitting the wood with a thump.

"I-I don't own a tweed jacket," is all I'm able to say before he pulls away to look at me, a devilish grin curling his pink lips before he speaks.

"You do in my dreams," he whispers before his lips close wet and desperate against my own and I can't resist the moan which trembles from my lips and the quiver which shakes my body. Suddenly I regain the use of my limbs and easily pull my hands free before I grab his waist and trail quickly over his hips before squeezing his ass and dragging him against me.

"What happens in your dreams?" I manage to ask as his lips move to my neck and his teeth scrap along my pulse, my hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as I drag it over his head.

"They differ," he murmurs as my heart hammers in my chest and my skin begins to overheat. "But," he whispers directly in my ear, one hand roaming quickly down my bare chest, "they always end," his mouth sucks on my collarbone, "in the same way," he finishes, hands making easy work of my fly as he palms my straining cock.

"H-how?" I gasp, mind slow and addled by desire as I thrust unashamedly into his hand.

He speaks through ragged breaths, fingers slipping slowly beneath the hem of my boxers, closing around my cock as he speaks straight into my ear, his breath hot, voice laced with desire, "with you fucking me over your desk."

My eyes roll back as my mind fills with that image. His body continues to move against me as his hand strokes slick and fast over my cock, a long, deep moan echoing from my wet lips before his close around them, swallowing the sound whole and sucking the air from my lungs. "Table," I manage to say against his lips. I feel him smile before his heat disappears, just his hand closing around mine and dragging me with him.

We quickly undress each other as we walk, frantically pushing shirts from shoulders and tugging trousers down with shaking hands, lips barely leaving each others skin as boxers are forced off and our bodies collide with passion. He moans into my mouth as my hand trails down his spine before dipping between the cheeks of his ass, pressing a finger heavily against his hole causing him to thrust forwards, arms tightening around my neck. I grin as I suck on his neck and move to grip his hips with both hands before walking him backwards quickly until he collides with the dining table.

He gasps at the pain and the cold against his skin before he allows me to lift him onto the edge, spreading his legs willingly as I step between them, one hand moving to stroke his cock as the other fists in his hair, tilting his head back to expose the expanse of his pale neck, teeth scraping along the tendons pulled taut with every breathy moan and gasp from his cherry lips as his legs close around my waist, holding us close.

"We need…" I mutter before stepping away and looking into his lustful eyes, bright and shining.

"In my pocket," he tells me.

I laugh as I detangle myself from him and move to our heap of clothes on the floor, hand dipping into his pocket and closing around the cold plastic bottle. "Had this planned for a while?" I ask him with a smirk as I walk back over to him.

"Shut up and fuck me already," he demands, standing from the table to pull me closer with eager hands, tangling in my hair, nails dragging down my spine, lips attaching to my own, tongue licking into my mouth, thigh rubbing against my dick over and over and over again until I can't take it anymore.

I push him off and turn him around, one hand grasping his hip as I push him into the table while the other knots in his hair and forces his head down until he's bent over in front of me. I can feel my blood pulsing around my body, breath hitching as I watch him open his legs slightly more, hands shaking as I pop the cap of the lube and smear some onto my fingers. Quickly and without warning I force two through the tight ring of muscle, causing him to hiss at the pain, his muscles automatically clenching around the intrusion, the warmth and tightness causing my legs to tremble. "Fu-u-uck," he gasps through shallow, uneven breaths, lips hanging open as his eyes drift shut.

I finger him harshly with quick, shallow thrusts which make him moan and tremble and shudder beneath me, arms outstretched above him, fingers curled around the edge of the table, knuckles white as sweat begins to shine on his skin. I then add a third finger, and finally a fourth, and watch in amazement as this beautiful man falls to pieces below me, "fuck, Blaine, oh god, oh fuck," he curses over and over again.

Finally I pull my fingers out and slick up my cock before curling an arm around his hips and dragging him slightly back, pressing the head between his ass cheeks and against his hole. I groan as he pushes himself up onto his elbows, his back bowing beautifully as he tries to press himself back harder, and he's so obviously desperate and horny and needy that I wait. I wait until his head snaps round to look at me and I can see anger burning in his eyes, a frown creasing his brow before I slam into him hard, filling him up with one harsh thrust, burying myself ball deep into him, so sudden and hard and quick that his mouth falls open, a moan filling his apartment as his elbows give in and he falls forward against the table.

I tighten my arm around his hips and force him back up before pulling out and slamming in again, quickly building a rhythm of quick, deep thrusts, causing both our bodies to tremble as sweat drips down our spines and shared moans echo around the room.

"Does this-" I speak between thrusts, "-live upto-" curving over his spine to kiss his salty skin, "-your dreams?" I finish, the hand around his hip moving to close tightly around his cock, thumb sliding over the head, dripping with pre-come.

"Oh fuck…" he moans, "yes, yes, fucking hell yes Blaine, harder," he begs, pushing himself back in time to meet each roll of my hips as I begin to feel that indescribable tension building in my abdomen, the swirling hot burning which seems to swell down my thighs, right to my toes and up my body, making my eyes glaze over as my movements become uncontrollable and before I know it I'm smashing into Kurt harder and faster than I realised ia possible. And he's moaning and writhing and pushing back against each thrust and then suddenly he's screaming my name, interjected with curses and nonsensical strings of syllables as his muscles close tight around my cock and my orgasm hits so hard that I'm momentarily blinded.

I feel him come in my hand, the liquid dripping between my fingers and down my wrist as we both fall forward in a heap onto the table, my chest pressed against the curve of his spine as I breath heavily against him shoulder blade. "I think you should… tell me about your dreams… more often," I finally say between heaving breaths as I feel my heart rate begin to slow.

"I'll make a note of that," he promises before with a final kiss to his salty skin I pull out nd step away. He stands up slowly, rolling his shoulders as he turns to face me, hands instinctively reaching towards me and pulling us together. I sigh into his neck; exhausted.

He brings my hand up to his mouth and I feel as his tongue laps across my wrist, licking off his own come, tongue sliding between my fingers before sucking them each individually between his lips, and if I hadn't just come so spectacularly I'd already be hard at the image and feel of his tongue working around each finger. "What d'you want to do now?" he asks as my little finger slips from between his lips.

"Sleep," I murmur into his warm skin.

"It's only five o'clock Blaine," he says through a laugh, wrapping his arms securely around me.

"I'm tired though," I whisper as I shuffle closer to him, already feeling as my eyelids begin to stutter closed.

"Okay," he sighs in defeat, unwinding his arms from around me but keeping hold of my hand as he walks with me towards his bedroom. We both collapse on top of the covers and automatically move towards each other, arms wrapping around naked bodies and legs intertwining, chests pressing together and eyes falling into line. We both smile before closing our eyes, leaning in for a final, slow kiss before I allow sleep to overcome me.

/

I hum as I feel a tentative finger trace along my hairline and down my temple before stroking my hair back from my face, a smile spreading across my face because even though I'm only half awake I know it's Kurt, and the fact that he's here beside me is enough to make my heart soar. Yawning I roll onto my back, arms stretching above me as I feel my spine stretch, the bones cracking slightly before I slump back heavily against the mattress, eyes blinking open slowly as my head tilts in Kurt's direction. He smiles at me, his head propped up on one arm as if to admire me.

"How long've I been asleep for?" I ask, voice gravely.

"Not long, an hour maybe," he tells me with a serene smile, hand rising to run through my hair again.

I sigh beneath his touch and roll onto my side, shuffling towards him, only then noticing that he's no longer naked, and beneath my hands is soft fabric instead of the soft skin I love so much. "Did you sleep?" I ask him, rubbing my nose into his neck to inhale his familiar scent.

He chuckles slightly as my nose tickles him, "no, I've got some exciting news to tell you though," he whispers as he presses a palm to the bare skin at the base of my spine, pulling me slightly closer.

"You have?" I ask, smiling as I slip my arms around his neck and shuffle up to look at him, feeling his chest press against mine with every breath he takes.

"I really have," he grins, "well, it doesn't affect us, but it's still really great news," his eyes shine with excitement as a sleepy smile curls my lips, _he said 'us', not 'me'_I think as my heart quickens slightly and my grip around him tightens unnoticeably.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?" I tease, forcing one leg between his which I'm sad to find are also clothed.

"Rachel and Finn are moving to Chicago," he tells me with a slight squeeze to my hip where his hand is resting.

My eyebrows shoot up, "They are?"

He nods enthusiastically, "yeah, a friend of Rachel's from college rang her a month or so ago. She works as a dance teacher at a performing arts school there, and apparently there was an opening for a musical theatre teacher, so yeah… apparently Rachel went for an interview and she just found out this morning that she got the job," he says in one long breath, his obvious happiness for his brother and sister-in-law making my heart swell.

"That's amazing!" I reply. Kurt had told me how Rachel and Finn have been struggling to afford to move out of Ohio, wanting to go to New York or Chicago where Rachel will be able to audition for rolls more easily. This is obviously the opportunity they've been waiting for. "How's Finn feel about it?"

"She said he's really happy. I think he wants to get out of Ohio just as much as she does now, and I mean, as long as Rachel's happy Finn normally is too," he laughs.

"What'll Finn do about work?" I ask, moving my hand to curve around his neck, thumb slowly tracing his jaw.

"She said he's already found a few garages up there which are looking to hire new mechanics, so hopefully it wont be too long before he's got a job too," he smiles, leaning forward to kiss my fingertip before snuggling even closer. "I'm just so, _so _happy for them. This is everything they've been waiting for," he says, breathe warm against my skin.

"I'm happy for them too," I reply, pressing even closer despite there being no space left between us.

"Apparently Carole can't stop crying," he says through a laugh, his chest vibrating against my own.

"Why!" I ask shocked.

He shakes his head as he laughs, "Rachel say's one minute she tears up because she's so happy for them and then she starts blubbering because her 'baby is all grown up and moving so far away,'" he says, hand lifting from my hip to form quotation marks before falling around my waist and weaving upwards, palm pressing warm between my shoulder blades. "Apparently Dad keeps telling her to calm down, because at least it's only Chicago and not London," his eyelashes tickle my skin as they flicker closed.

I hum lightly before silence engulfs us. We stay like this for an endless amount of time, limbs intertwined, drunk on one another's heat, no words needed when the calm, rhythmic beating of synchronised hearts is enough to lull us both into a half slumber, filled with half dreams and half groans as muscles instinctively tighten around the body knotted against our own.

"I don't like how you're not naked," I tell him after I move to rub along his spine and feeling fabric beneath my palm instead of solid bone.

"I love how naked _you_are though," he replies with a coy smile.

I grumble as I start to remove his clothes. He happily obliges and allows me to drag his top over his head while he pushes his sweats down before wriggling the rest of the way out. Simultaneously he kicks them the final inch off while I throw his top across the room, and as if connected by invisible wires our limbs stretch towards each other and drag us closer. I sigh happily as his bare skin grazes and presses against my own, my fingertip finally able to weave between his slightly protruding vertebrates.

"God Kurt," I sigh against his skin.

"What?" he whispers.

"I love you so much, so fucking much," I shake my head, unable to even comprehend how much he means to me.

He moves to look at me properly, face filling my line of sight, eyes flickering between my own before a slow smile spreads across his face. "I know, I love you so much too, so much more than I thought was possible," he tells me.

I bring his hand up to kiss his palm, keeping my lips pressed against the tender skin as I stare into his eyes. Eye's which know my deepest secrets, my largest failures and my proudest achievements, they know my wildest dreams and my biggest fears. And in his hands he holds my past; he holds the pain and the suffering and the struggle, but he also holds the indescribable happiness which was well worth the pain, he holds the laughter and the love and the hope we shared as teenagers, and now he holds my future too. In his hands he holds everything I've ever wanted in my life, and the fact that he has the power to take all of that away at any second terrifies me. But the fact that he hasn't and he is lying here beside me, naked and vulnerable and exposed gives me hope that maybe we really can last forever.

Slowly we move forward until our lips press together and I feel as his body relaxes into the shape of my own and I feel as my heart aches with how much I adore this man. There are no words big enough, no metaphors or similes worthy, no quotes or lyrics or descriptions which will ever come close to this feeling. This feeling of whole and intact and complete yet completely in pieces and lost and unfamiliar when he isn't around. The constant ache in the pit of your stomach and the unexplainable dizziness in your mind and the delectable taste of their skin against your lips.

My body succumbs to his warmth as he gently rolls me onto my back, lips never leaving mine as the world falls away and all that's left is the perfect creature above me. Lips wet against my skin, a shiver racing down my spine, my mind blank and void and empty but for _touch_and _taste_ and _how did I ever survive without you?_

I don't even jump as I feel a hand drop between my legs, parting them slightly before running delicately up the inside of either thigh, making me tremble before two slick fingers slowly slide inside of me, a small whine leaving my body before he begins to move them in deep, slow, teasing movements. Making me keen and arch towards him, body burning as I feel sweat begin to break out down my spine and along my neck and behind my knees, his lips dancing across my skin.

He slowly makes his way down my chest with his lips, a third finger slipping effortlessly inside of me as he sucks on my hip bones, lips quickly falling along the curve above my thigh before closing around the head of my cock. I groan, head pressing into the pillow as he slowly works his way down, going slightly further with each drag of his lips as I fall apart above him, sweating and moaning and internally begging for _more_and to _never stop_and _I love you, I love you, I love you…_

And I'm so lost and dizzy and astounded that it takes me a moment to realise his lips are trailing back up my chest and his fingers are no longer curling and stroking my prostate but instead gently pulling out of me, and just as realisation washes through me his face appears above me and he's so gorgeous that my hands shake as I grip his neck. He's sweaty; hair sticking to his forehead and curling at the base of his neck, his eyes are dark and hooded and his body is rolling down against my own, lips parted and pink and so, _so_delicious.

"I love you," I tell him before his lips collide with my own, "so much Kurt, so fucking much," I continue to tell him in between deep kisses and I feel as his erection rubs against my stomach with each curve of his spine, my breathing has become hurried and shallow and my heart is pounding painfully hard but I never want this moment to end and I moan as I feel him align himself, my legs automatically rising to hold loose around his hips as he leans back to look at me. Our eyes connect and a million words and truths and sighs pass between us as he slowly presses his hips down, my mouth falling open in pained pleasure as I feel him fill me.

My legs tighten around him and just hold him there, inside me and around me and above me as my eyes fall shut and his forehead presses against my own. "You're perfect," he tells me, warm breath tickling my lips as my eyes stutter open, only to be greeted by the deep oceans which are his eyes. "I can't believe how much I love you," he says before gently pulling out, my spine intuitively arcing upwards as he grazes my prostate, my thighs aching with how hard I'm holding on but even that pain morphs into a strange pleasure before he glides back into me.

These slow, delicate, dizzying thrusts continue until we're both just a mess of limbs and moans and arching spines and shaking hands and 'I love you's. And I feel as heat unfurls within me, I feel as my fingertips and toes tingle and I feel as his movements begin to speed up. Eventually just moans and indecipherable strings of syllables fill the silence and mingle together in the thick, sex-drenched air which surrounds us. Our bodies writhe against one another as with each thrust he hits my prostate and I jerk irregularly beneath him, his lips feverish and desperate against my own, hand shaking against my chest, nails digging into flesh as the smell of his shampoo washes over me, muddling my senses as my body begins to tremble as I edge closer and closer to the edge.

My eyes flicker open and closed and I stare in amazement at his long eyelashes, face flushed, shoulders broad and strong, arms powerful beside me as his hips slam forward, cries of pleasure cascading from his mouth and filing my ears and I can taste his skin in my mouth, and when I lick my lips they taste of his and it's intoxicating and I can't get enough as I crane my neck to find his lips.

And finally I do and he bites down hard, hips sporadic as they slam forward and I know he's nearly there because his hand closes around my cock and begins to pump in time with his hips because he wants us to come together. I cry out as I teeter on the very edge, the precipice looming below me but I don't want to fall because this is just everything I need and Kurt's here and he loves me and I want this, with him, for the rest of my life.

And them he gasps into my neck, free hand tangling in my hair to drag my face around to look at him before his lips smash into mine, hungry and desperate and unstoppable as he sucks the life from me and with one final thrust he loses control and pounds into me through his orgasm, the continual, unstoppable, unrelenting pressure on my prostate literally catapulting me over the edge as my hips roll up to meet him and my muscles tense around him, legs locking him in place as my come erupts over our sweaty chests and down his hand. We continue to kiss messily until breathing through our noses is no longer sufficient and we both pull away reluctantly, his head falling into my neck, hair sticking to my skin as I groan and my legs fall from around him.

We stay like this for a long time, bodies sticking to one another, his limp cock still buried within me, one hand caught between us, the other fisted in my hair while mine both grip his hips. It could have taken hours before we were both able to move again but eventually we do, both hissing as he manoeuvres out of me before falling back on top of me, sweat cooling on sticky skin as our breathing begins to calm. In the end he rolls off of me, spreading out beside me on his back, eyes still closed as our breathing gradually returns to normal, hearts finally able to calm.

After a few minutes I roll onto my side and over to him, burying my head into his neck, one arm resting around his chest, hand curling around his neck. I press a gentle kiss just below his ear and watch him smile, eyelids flickering open to look at me. "I can't live without you." I tell him simply.

"I know," he nods, "I can't live without you either, you mean everything to me." He smiles as he rolls onto his side and pulls me to him, and despite how sticky and grubby we both feel we just cling to one another, lips lingering on each others skin as we fall asleep.


	27. Chapter XXVII

Thursday 26th September 2019

**Kurt**

Throughout September autumn has slowly made its self known. The sun continues to shine; but warm instead of hot. The wind becomes almost unnoticeably harsher and days begin to draw to a close sooner, night by night, minute by minute a dark blanket enfolds London, changing it to a city lit by millions of lights.

I've always adored the city at night. The rows upon rows of red and white lights streaming up either side of the road, the neon orange streetlamps and the bright squares of still office buildings looming seemingly miles above you.

That's where my head points as I walk; upwards, staring at the concrete which surrounds me, smiling despite the crowd which jostles me slightly and the wind which occasionally blows my jacket open, soaking through my thin shirt to infest my skin. I shiver; dragging my jacket closed slightly, crossing my arms over my chest as I continue to walk, much slower than usual as I allow people to weave and push in front of me. It's been a slow day, surprisingly calm, and I'm relaxed as I walk home.

I bring my head down, licking my lips which have dried in the wind as I blink a few times, and as I do so my eye's catch on something faintly familiar. I do a double take, stopping in my tracks so suddenly that the guy behind me walks straight into me. I apologise and smile, moving out of his way and towards the café which sparks a strange memory in my mind. I come to stop across the road from it and just stare for a second, my mind firing quickly until it hits me. This is where Blaine brought me for coffee that first day.

I smile as my eyes roam over the familiar window decorations; cakes and bunting enticing me now just as much as they had months ago. Grinning from ear to ear I cross the road and push the door open, almost being blown over by the warmth and the overwhelmingly delicious smell of cake and freshly ground coffee. My eyes immediately dart to the quote on the wall, smile unmoving from my face as I remember Blaine's incredulous expression at me never having heard of the poet whose quote it is. His name is a mystery to me even now.

I join the queue, allowing my jacket to fall open as I dig some change out of my pocket, eyes still soaking in the room. It's slightly different, darker because of the later time of day and far grimmer weather; a few lamps litter the tables, filing the room with a homely yellow glow. In the background I can hear a generic radio station playing, the smell of coffee mingling with the warmth, making me feel almost sleepy. I take a step forward, allowing my eyes to roam leisurely over the few people taking up the tables; two teenage girls sat gathered over a magazine, cups of coffee steaming in grasped hands, in the corner a guy with his back to me, mess of dark curls falling loose over his ears, coat and bag perched on the chair beside him, a man in a suit typing lazily on his laptop, two empty espresso cups discarded to one side, a couple cuddled in another corner, not needing words to communicate.

I frown, my head swivelling back to the man sat alone; _it isn't… is it?_The person in front of me finally pays and I step forward, ordering my coffee in a slightly hushed voice as I smile stupidly. _It is him_. I can tell by his bent leg and his exasperated sigh. I can just make out that his coffee cup is empty and quickly order one for him too, digging more money from my pocket before pointing to the same chocolate cake he'd ordered before.

I thank the barista before carrying the tray over in silence. I place it on a nearby table before moving to stand behind him, swiftly curling my hands around his face before he has a chance to realise someone's stood _right_behind him. He jumps, a gasp leaving his lips as his hands shoot up to grasp my wrists, pen in hand as he pulls them from his eyes. I let him; moving them to grasp his broad shoulder, kneading the tight muscle as I lean down before he has a chance to turn, my lips close to his ear as I whisper, 'mind if I join you?"

"_Kurt!"_ He gasps, turning so rapidly in his chair that it almost topples as he jumps to his feet, his grin wide, eyes shining, crinkles forming in the corners before he swings his arms around me in surprise, dragging us together as his hair tickles my jaw and neck as he burrows into me. He pulls away and kisses me gently; lips still turned into a smile before he pulls away and asks, "how'd you know I was here?"

I detangle myself from his limbs gently, "I didn't. I was just walking home and saw this place. I remembered you bringing us here," I tell him, picking up the tray to move it to our table, sitting down on the cushioned bench which wraps around the room. He shakes his head disbelievingly, smile still stretching his cheeks, hair bouncing lightly as he falls next to me, opposite from where he's just been sat.

He shakes his head. "Weird," he concedes, shuffling until our bodies are pressed flush against one another, his fingers tangling with mine beneath the table before his other hand reaches out to the second coffee cup. He hums contently as he brings it to his lips, eyes falling shut as he inhales the aroma before sipping it, still too hot to drink properly. "I can't believe you just stumbled across me," he shakes his head, lowering his cup to the table before picking up a fork, immediately picking a chunk from the cake, grinning in shock.

"I seem to have a knack for just stumbling across you," I tease, wrapping my cold hand around the steaming mug.

"And I'm so glad you do," he responds, knocking my shoulder lightly before turning his head to kiss the knot of bone on top of it, the warmth of his lips only just reaching my skin through my clothes.

He turns his attention back to the cake and cuts a chunk off with the side of his fork, scooping it up before turning and offering it to me. I smile, allowing him to feed me a decidedly smaller chunk that what he'd been cutting for himself, my insides swooping strangely at that little fact he knows about me.

As I chew the cake he just stares at me, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away, as if I'll disappear at any moment. I grin, diverting my attention from him and swallowing before taking a large swig of coffee, sighing as I feel the hot liquid slide down my throat. "How was work?" he questions, another piece of cake being cut with the side of his fork when he's finally content enough to look away.

I shrug, "usual," I admit, having nothing of interest or importance to say, "mundane really."

"Same," he mumbles, motioning with his fork at the array of papers decorating the table before offering me some more cake. I grin, opening my mouth, he grins back, the sparkle not once left his eyes since he saw me.

"Happy London Fashion Week is over?" he questions before scooping up the last chunk and eating it, pulling the fork from between his lips as he looks up at me.

"More relieved I suppose… finally get to spend some time with you and Ava," I tell him with a sideways glance. He smiles as he drops his fork to his plate with a clatter, squeezing my hand beneath the table.

"Finally," he repeats, cupping my cheek with his now free hand as he turns me to face him, leaning up an inch to press a barely there kiss to my lips. I blush slightly as he pulls away, tongue darting out to taste chocolate on my lips as my eyes instinctively search the room in case anyone saw. He see's my hurried sweep of the other customers and chuckles slightly, "no one cares Kurt," he tells me with a half smile, his eyes also taking in the small collection of people in the café; all too absorbed in their own lives to care that two men are kissing. A pleasant change from the glares and verbal, sometimes even physical, abuse we used to get when we'd share the occasional loving glance in public during our teen years.

I smile somewhat wistfully, inching closer as I slump slightly on the cushion, allowing my head to fall against his shoulder. Sighing I allow my eyes to drift shut as his free hand raises to squeeze my bicep slightly, his head turning to kiss the top of my head before his hand releases me, stretching across the table to pull his papers towards him. I listen as his pen scratches silently against the paper, his body moving minutely beside me with every word he writes.

"Blaine?" I whisper after an extended period of silence, my mind having been given time to mull over something which has secretly been bugging me for weeks, something which I was reminded of today at work.

"Uh huh?" He mumbles next to me. I open my eyes, glancing up at him without moving my head, watching the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he writes, a few curls falling free over his forehead.

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for possible answers in advance. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"You can tell me to… fuck off, if you want… it's not really any of my business," I ramble, feeling as he stills beside me, the scratching of his pen stopping as he turns to face me.

"What is it?" he asks me, voice suddenly serious. I sit up, straightening beside him as I turn to face him, my palm beginning to sweat in his.

His brow is slightly furrowed, eyes searching as he waits for me to speak. "I was just wondering… feel free to tell me to-"

He cuts me off. "Kurt, just ask me, you're starting to worry me," and I can see the worry in the lines of his forehead, hear it in the inflection of his words and feel it thickening the atmosphere around us.

So I swallow the lump in my throat, rubbing my thumb calmingly over the knuckle of his before speaking, "What-happened-between-you-and-George?" I finally ask, the words running together, rushing and tumbling and tripping over each other as I avoid his gaze.

There's silence. I can feel his eyes frozen on my profile before I turn to look at him, his expression somewhat vacant, eyes glazed before he utters one syllable, "oh…"

"If you don't wa-" I try to reassure him before he speaks over me.

"No no, it's fine, I just… what's made you ask?" he questions, confusion creasing his face.

I shrug, "just something he said a few weeks ago just… made me wonder I suppose, and then today at work, out of nowhere, he asked me about Ava…"

"He did?" I'm pleased to hear my confusion mirrored in his voice.

"Yeah… where is she actually?" I wonder aloud, looking around as if I had somehow missed her.

"Started that new gymnastics class, her first lesson today," he says quickly with the faintest smile. "What did he say a few weeks ago?" he asks, swiftly moving the conversation back to my original question

"He said… well, people were sort of teasing me, the night we went out for dinner," I clarify "and he looked a bit… I dunno, not sad just… neutral. Everyone else was laughing and joking and joining in and he just sort of sat there, and then all of a sudden he just stood and left," I risk a glance at Blaine, noting how intently he's listening. "So I followed him and he eventually just asked if we were together, and at the time obviously we were sort of… on the verge of together but not quite there. I said it was a bit complicated, and then he was like 'it always is with Blaine' and I guess I was just wondering what… 'complicated' means in terms of- of you and George…" I finish rather lamely, risking a second glance only to realise he's no longer looking at me, his attention having moved to his now empty cup, free hand swilling the dregs around slowly.

A strange silence falls over us; him contemplatively staring into his cup while I cautiously glance at him. Our hands are still laced together, each of our grips having tightened unintentionally as we subconsciously hold onto one another, until eventually he breaks the silence, letting his cup fall from where he was holding it a centimetre above the wood. It hits the table top with a hollow bang, synchronising with a sigh.

"I honestly don't know where to start Kurt," he tells me as he turns to face me, honesty evident in the tone of his voice. "I mean… it really is sort of complicated."

I feel my heart begin to sink, "if you don't want to tell me it's fine," I reassure him, my curiosity and fear peaking as this white lie leaves my lips.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you. It's just so long and…" he rolls his eyes as he searches for the correct word, "I don't even know," he finally admits, voice suddenly tired. I don't say anything, instead I just watch as he glances at his watch. "I've got to leave to pick Av up," he shots me an apologetic look, "you're coming home with me tonight, aren't you?" he asks, and I wonder what he wants to me say.

"If you'll have me," I choose to reply with, hoping to sound relaxed and carefree.

He grins widely, "I'll have you for as long as you'll let me," he whispers, leaning towards me, words warm against my lips before he kisses me again, lips lingering longer than before as a hand raises to hold us in place, fingers tangling in my hair, my heart beginning to stutter as goose bumps unfurl down my spine.

And then he's gone, a small smirk flashing across his features before he untangles our hands and begins packing his stuff away, shuffling papers and sliding them rather haphazardly into his messenger bag. Eventually he stands; offering me his hand. I smile up at him as I take it, and together we leave the comfort of the café, me silently wondering whether that's the end of that particular conversation.

/

We've just finished loading the dishwasher, discussing amongst the three of us which film to watch when Blaine's phone rings, loud and intrusive from where it lies forgotten on the kitchen counter. He reaches over and looks at the display, a small, almost inaudible groan leaving his throat as he rolls his eyes, reluctantly answering the call.

"Hey mum," he says with fake cheer down the line, turning to lean back against the counter, shooting an apologetic smile my way.

I just shrug back, sending him an it's-not-your-fault smile before pointing towards the living room. He smiles and nods, waving his hand as he continues to talk unhappily to his mother, "yeah, yeah, I'm fine… no, she's here."

I excuse myself from the kitchen, not wanting to listen to their conversation. Instead I meander into the living room and settle on the sofa, not wasting any time in spreading out. My legs unfolding beneath me as I burrow my head into the arm rest, socked feet dangling slightly over the edge as I begin flicking absentmindedly through channels.

That lasts only a few minutes until I get bored of channel hopping and throw the remote down in defeat, rolling onto my back as I allow my eyes to fall shut, arms folding beneath my head as I listen to Ava's voice speaking to her maternal grandmother; sounding just as bored as Blaine had.

An indefinable amount of time passes before I hear the sound of light feet against carpet, padding into the living room, far too silent to be Blaine. My eye's shuffle open as Ava walks into the room, lime green dinosaur dressing gown on, hood pulled over her head, the face and gaping jaw of a t-rex decorating it, her angelic face just poking out from beneath the soft fabric. Her hair is still slightly wet from her bath, falling in curls from within the hood; a pale yellow bear tucked under one arm.

She walks idly, humming a made up tune under her breath as she approaches the TV, completely unaware of my presence as she stands _right_in front of it, her nose almost touching the screen, close enough for it to jolt a memory from the back of my mind.

"_Kurt, baby, don't sit so close, it'll hurt your eyes," my mother tells me with a smile; leaning down behind me and wrapping her slender arms around my body. I tilt my head back and grin widely, allowing her to drag me a few feet away from the screen, her soft hair falling from behind her ear to tickle my cheek as she leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my head before straightening up. She continues to smile down at me for a moment before turning on her heel and leaving, and in the distance I hear her laugh float from the kitchen, my father's deep, throaty laugh following not far behind as I scoot back to where I'd originally been sat. I glance towards the door, hoping she'll come back out and move me away again, hoping she'll direct that carefree laught towards me and smile like I'm the most special little boy in the world._

I shake the memory from the front of my mind, blinking a few times to stop the rapidly accumulating emotion before speaking, "you'll hurt your eyes stood so close."

Ava jumps at my voice, her body jolting round to face me before a giggle erupts from her small body. I grin back as she shuffles forward, doing that strange thing children do where they walk without taking there feet from the floor, just dragging them along the carpet until she is stood in front of me; eyes peaking from her dinosaur hood.

"Dad still on the phone?" I ask, shuffling back slightly so there's enough room for her to sit if she want to. She nods silently, rubbing a fist into her eye as she yawns. "Tired?" She nods again, bringing her bear up to snuggle into its worn fabric, her honey eyes falling shut with a sigh. "D'you want to go bed?" I continue to question her.

"Nuh uh," she mumbles, raising a knee to climb onto the sofa, I move to turn onto my side, pressing my spine against the back rest so she has plenty of room to sit, but before I can her tiny hand reaches out, balling the fabric of my shirt into a plump fist as with a small groan she heaves herself up. My arms instinctively reach out to her, one hand curling around her arm, the other steadying her in case she slips, pulling her up slightly. Eventually she manages to climb completely on, and again I move to give her more room, but she continues to climb, much easier this time as she shuffles onto my chest.

"Hhnng," I huff as her knee presses just below my ribs, momentarily taking my breath away as she fidgets on top of me, "Av, whatcha doin'?" I ask after a moment.

"Getting comfy," she replies, as if she climbs on top of me every day. I frown slightly, automatically tensing my stomach muscles to prevent injury as she gets further and further tangled in her dressing gown. She sighs exasperatedly, sounding far older than her four years as she sits up, straightening the folds of fabric before finally lying down. Her body is small enough to curl completely on my chest, feet resting against one hip bone, knees tucked beneath her, one hand sprawled around my chest, while her other is tucked beneath her head, her ear pressed to my heart.

I smile as she hums, tucking her bear beneath her arm, and I can just see beneath the green fabric as her eyes fall shut. I lift one arm, winding it around her miniature body intuitively, curling around her spine, hand coming to rest against her waist while the other rises slightly to fall against my own chest, moving forward an inch to touch her fingers. Her hand uncurls at the touch, podgy fingers stretching out to wrap around my index finger. I smile and allow my own eyes to fall closed as silence falls over us, the very distant sound of Blaine's voice soothing us both.

Until eventually she breaks the silence; "Your heart sounds like Daddy's," she tells me knowledgably, moving her palm to press flat against my chest, feeling the thump as she listens to it.

"It does?" I ask, not mentioning that everyone's heart probably sounds the same.

She nods into my chest, listening intently for a few more seconds before craning her head to peer at my face, my head propped up on the arm rest.

"Is that how you know when you love someone?" she asks innocently. My eyes widen in confusion as I stare into her inquisitive, trusting eyes; eyes which are so similar to Blaine's, and therefore so familiar.

"What do you mean?" I manage to ask.

"Like… with you and Daddy… 'cause your hearts sounds so much the same... is that how you know?" she asks, eyes wide as she waits patiently for an answer, and my mind is so blown away by the simplicity with which she views the world, so much so that I'm momentarily startled into silence. If only the entire world could think of love as this four year old does; if only the entire world could think of love as just two heart beats which sound the same, not blinded by the persons _outward_appearance, but determined by their _heart._

I begin to nod slowly, "yeah…" I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. "Yeah, something like that Av," I assure her. She grins, seemingly proud of her deduction before curling back into me, eyes falling shut again.

A few minutes later I hear as her breathing slows slightly, her grip loosening on my finger as her lips fall slightly open. It's strange how nice it is to have her slight weight pressing on top of me, knowing that she's comfortable enough with me to literally climb on top of me and fall asleep on my chest like she no doubt does with Blaine. I lie in silence, the rising and falling of my chest the only movement, cautious even of how loud I'm breathing, scared of waking her.

In time though, I feel as my own eyelids begin to droop, dropping gradually further shut with each blink until the creaking of the door drags me back to reality, although it does seem somewhat foggy and muffled around the edges. I feel as her weight is lifted from me, the almost silent sound of another person breathing before I curl onto my side, snuggling into the fabric of the backrest as I hear the sound of floorboards groaning beneath Blaine's weight.

A matter of minutes later the floorboards groan again, the door making the same creaking noise as it's pushed open, a recognizable rhythmic breathing filling the room as an unmistakable weight settles behind me. An incomparable heat seeps through me as his arms weave around me, dragging gently until we're pressed completely together, his ankles tangling with my own, socked foot rubbing up my calf as he blows cold air onto my neck, making me shiver and arc back into his warmth.

"Nnnmm… mmm" I mumble a string of garbled syllables as I turn in his arms, blinking my eyes open to be gladly met by his.

"Hi beautiful," he greets me with a soft kiss, nuzzling our noses as he forces a knee between mine, one arm around my waist while the other rises to stroke my jaw, tracing my neck.

"Mmello," I grumble against his warm skin, content to lie like this forever.

We lie in a comfortable silence for some time, me gradually drifting back asleep until his voice whispers my name, "Kurt?" My eyes blink open in response, "d'you want me to tell you the story now?" he asks, thoroughly confusing me.

"Dunno whatcha talkin' 'bout," I snuffle into him, eyes falling shut again.

"About George…" he says, leaning back to take in my expression.

Oh. Right. Yeah; George. I try to wake myself up slightly, wanting to actually be able to remember this conversation. "I don't know Blaine," I finally admit after rubbing at my eyes slightly, "is it a story I would be better off not knowing?" I question, wondering which answer I'd prefer.

"I… no. I don't see why you would be… It's not a _bad_story, it's just, a little… our relationship wasn't exactly conventional. It _is_ complicated, but not complicated in the way that… that _our_relationship is… if I'm making any sense," he rambles for a moment, frowning at the sofa as he struggles to be articulate.

"Okay… you can tell me," I concede, knowing that in a few days I'll just regret not asking to be told, my curiosity far too high to be silenced. "But Blaine… only tell me if you really want to, I don't want you feeling like you _have_to tell me anything if you're not… not completely comfortable with it," I assure him, wanting him to _want_to tell me, not to feel like he _needs_to tell me.

"No it's fine. I just needed some time to straighten out my thoughts, that's all," he tells me with a sincere smile.

"Okay, what did your mum want by the way?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, "Just the usual attempt at being a caring mother. Nothing of significance or truth there," he tells me, sadness dulling his eyes for the briefest second.

"Sorry," I mumble, apologising for his parents less than truthful shows of affection.

He shrugs dismissively, "it's nothing I've not grown used to over the past 25 years," he jokes, "so this story…" he says, guiding us back to our original conversation, which he seems surprisingly more willing to talk about than his mother and father.

"Yes…" I reply, unsure of what to say.

"Where do you want me to start?" he asks.

"The beginning?" I offer, and it's more of a question in itself, because where else is there to start?

"Right…" he replies, seeming to realise himself that 'the beginning' is of course the logical place to begin. I watch for a second as his eyes seem to glaze over, unfocused but pointing downwards towards the fabric beneath us.

I reach a tentative finger out, placing it beneath his chin as I tilt his face up to look at me. He smiles shyly before I lean forward, grazing our lips together slightly, "when you're ready," I tell him as I lean back, shuffling my body against his but keeping our faces in line.

He smiles in response, taking a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak.


	28. Chapter XXVIII

**A/N: Note we've gone back about 18 months.**

Friday 5th January 2018

**Blaine**

It's the end of the second day back after Christmas and I'm sat alone in my classroom, eyes focused on the window as I watch the hundreds of students pour from the building and through the gates. Their laughter is loud, they're shouting, calling out to one another. I hear a few obscene words being batted around, mostly in jest, while some are meant to hurt.

Sighing I allow my head to fall forward against the solid wood of my desk. I shut my eyes, a small hum of exhaustion falling from my lips. I've been living in London for nearly 18 months, and it is _finally_starting to feel like home.

I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been a struggle to adjust. At first I hated it, I wanted desperately to go home, back to LA, back to the sun on my skin, back to Liam and his body against mine at night. But slowly that painful throb of homesickness had dulled to an ignorable ache. I made friends with people at work, other parents at Ava's nursery and neighbours; bit by bit I adjusted Sophie and Wills house to be my home, rearranging rooms, occasionally replacing furniture or repainting. And day by day Ava I grew closer.

In the beginning it had been painfully difficult. She wouldn't speak to me, remaining silent for days on end. I'd occasionally find her staring up at the wall of pictures in the hallway, many of them of her parents, a finger tracing their increasingly less familiar faces, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she would turn and look at me, tears prickling my own eyes as I reach towards her, desperate to feel even the smallest connection to the only part of my big sister left in the world. But she'd just cock her head at me, before turning and shuffling away, wobbly on her feet as she moves to look out the window.

That all changed about a month after I'd moved into her home. I'd been lying awake in bed, flat on my back, staring at my ceiling, wondering how my life had got to this point, when I heard a tiny voice;

_"Bane?" the voice calls, unable to pronounce my name; almost inaudible in the pressing silence but loud enough for it to reach me._

_I quickly roll out of bed, padding silently from my room and into hers, stopping suddenly when I see she is stood up in her crib, fists clinging to the rail as she stares up at me with wide, scared eyes, face illuminated by her orange night light. "Yes Ava?" I ask, stepping towards her and kneeling so that we're face to face through the bars._

"_Scared," is all she says, lifting her arms from the rails and stretching them towards me._

_I stand, reaching down to her, hooking my hands beneath her arms and heaving her from the crib. She's weightless in my arms as she settles against my hip, head falling against my shoulder as her chest heaves slightly between us, warm tears soaking through my shirt. "So am I," I tell her, holding her close as I leave the room, carrying her into mine before crawling into my bed with her. I lie her down before settling next to her, holding back my tears as she shimmies towards me._

_She sniffles against me as I lie awake for the rest of the night, listening as her tears subside and her breathing calms as she falls asleep. But I can't sleep, instead I just lie in silence and watch as the light outside my window changes from black to navy, fading until it is a bright burning white, filling the room with light and I wonder whether my life will ever feel as bright and perfect and inevitable as the rise of the sun every morning._

After that life grew gradually easier. I slowly allowed myself to forget about Liam, stopped trying to remember the exact shade of his eyes and the exact taste of his lips. I stopped pining for the heat of LA and settled for the rain and occasional bright days of London, and slowly Ava opened up to me; she gave up on 'Bane' and fell into calling me 'dad', a habit which at first I struggled to get used to, but I'd much rather me struggle with getting used to it than her struggle to stop herself saying it. So I became 'dad', and she'd show me pictures she drew at nursery and beam when I taped them to the chalkboard in the kitchen, she'd ask me to piggy back her when she got tired she would tease me when I got flour in my hair when we baked.

Falling in love with such a beautiful, clever, cheeky little girl had been so simple that sometimes I wonder how I ever doubted I would.

I glance back up and out of the window, noticing that the noise has lowered to a dull murmur, the last few teenagers leaving for the weekend, the occasional rev of an engine as a car leaves. And then there's a gentle knock on the door, startling me as my head snaps around.

The door's already open, held ajar by a spare chair, and stood in the doorway, peering in with an apologetic half-smile, hand still raised is a young man. He's at the awkward age where he's the size of a man, almost six foot if I was to use the door frame as a comparison, with broad shoulders and long, muscled arms and an evidently muscular chest. Yet his face still holds a child-like innocence, dark hair neatly combed, eyes hesitant, body language nervous as our eyes lock.

"Erm… Hi, sorry to er, disturb you, I was looking for Mrs. Green… this used to be her classroom…" he trails off, and for a second I'm startled by his accent. Even after over a year living in England, the whole array of British accents still manages to surprise me every so often.

I quickly realise that I'm still staring at him, replaying the word 'classroom' over and over in my head, enjoying the strange inflection on the 'a'. "Oh right… erm," I stammer, scraping my chair back slightly against the linoleum floor so I can look at him properly, trying not to let my eyes wander down his seemingly endless legs. "I think she retired," I finally say, casting my mind back to the little information I'd been told of the woman whose job I'd taken over when I first moved here.

"Oh… right, okay," he mumbles, sighing slightly as his eyes fall from mine to focus on the floor. I see his mouth fall open, the tip of his tongue visible as it scrapes along his top teeth.

"Is it anything _I_ can help you with?" I offer. He glances up at me, eyes running over me quickly.

"I don't know… are you a teacher?" he asks, head falling to the side slightly.

"I am," I reply, smiling minutely as he wanders into the room. He stops in front of my desk, leaning back against a table before glancing up at me, only then do I notice his eyes; very dark brown, black almost, seeming to blend with his pupil, apart from in his left eye, where there is the thinnest slither of grey reaching right from the pupil to the sclera. Suddenly I realise I'm staring, quickly averting my gaze to his other eye in an attempt to focus my attention on his words, instead of that mesmerising slice of grey, forcibly stopping myself from standing and reaching out to pull his face closer.

"You're new then? I don't remember you when I came here," he says, and I try not to smile at the use of past tense; _so he's not a student, or at least not a current one, and at least 18, most likely 19._

"I- yes, I'm new," I settle on, standing and holding my hand out, "Blaine Anderson," I tell him.

He smiles as he pushes himself up from the desk, raising his hand to close the distance between us. "George Moreau," he says, a hint of a French accent decorating his last name as a blush decorates his cheeks.

"French?"

"My father," he replies starkly with a dismissive wave of his hand as he settles back against the table. "You're American?" he questions, his initial shyness disappearing slightly.

"Yeah," I nod, not having thought about the fact that while I've been admiring the various British accents I've been encountering, people have been hearing my American one. I find myself wondering what I must sound like to them.

"Whereabouts?" he asks nosily.

"LA," I reply, choosing the state I'll always view as my American home, not the state where I was born and raised.

"Wow," his eyes are wide. "Why would you ever leave LA for England?" he asks in disbelief. My eyebrows shoot up, wondering how I'm supposed to answer that before he quickly catches himself, "sorry, don't answer that. It's none of my business," he blushes adorably, shuffling slightly to avoid my gaze.

I laugh lightly as I shake my head, "no, it isn't." His blush changes from pink to red and I'm reminded momentarily of the first boy I loved, who was so easy to blush. I push his memory from my mind as I focus my attention on George. "So, what did you need help with?" I finally ask, getting us back to his original query.

"Oh right… yeah, I don't really think you'd be able to help, seen as you were never my teacher though," he explains with a shrug, eyes briefly finding mine before he looks away again.

"What d'you mean?" I ask, buying time as I try to work out whether he's gay or not. Admittedly there is nothing _stereotypically_ gay about him, although stereotypes can very rarely be trusted, as I've learnt. But I just can't shake the feeling that his blush, the obvious avoidance of my eyes and the somewhat awkward body language are less to do with his nervousness than they're to do with possible attraction. _I'm allowed to hope,_ I tell myself as I focus on the lilt of his voice, forcing myself not to watch his lips as he speaks.

"I needed someone to write me a reference for my university application, I'm on a gap year and I came in to ask Mrs. Green. She was my form tutor, but I can just ask another teacher, she was just my favourite I guess," he elaborates, eyes nervously searching mine, hands gripping the edge of the desk he's lent against with a little too much force.

"Oh, right," I say, understanding his problem. "I think most the teachers will be gone home by now," I tell him truthfully.

He groans, "Figures," he mutters under his breath, standing from the desk and glancing towards the door before looking back at me. "D'you think you could…" he shakes his head.

"Could what?" I question, curiosity growing as he looks down at me through thick eyelashes.

"No, no it doesn't matter," he stammers, moving towards the door.

"Hey, yeah it does, come on, I'll help you anyway I can," I say, desperate to stay in his company just a little longer, just a little more time to try and work him out.

He looks down at me as I stand, moving around the desk slightly to stand in front of him. He's easily a few inches taller than me, and I hide a smile as he licks his lips, voice increasing in pitch as I lean back against my desk; a good sign. "Well, couldn't I just, give you my email address and stuff to give to my teachers? It'd save me keep coming in and probably missing them each time anyway? I've not got long till the deadline and-"

"Yeah that's fine," I assure him with a smile, watching as his nervousness escalates with my closer proximity. _Obviously not used to male attention,_I think as I allow my eyes to discretely roam down the column of his neck, dark stubble just creeping along his jaw.

"It is?" He asks shock evident in his voice as our eyes lock, me swiftly swallowing the lump in my throat and forcing a reassuring smile onto my face.

"Yeah sure, just, tell me which teachers and I'll speak to them Monday for you."

He beams at me, eyes bright and from this distance I can more closely study that sliver of silver in his iris, even more astounding closer up; mesmerising.

Five minutes later he's waving goodbye as he walks away across the car park, heading towards his car while I head for the gate, a piece of paper with his scribbled email address and phone number tucked into my bag, a list of his teachers in order of favourites hastily scrawled on a separate piece.

"Hey Blaine!" he calls my name from a distance and I turn, holding my hand over my eyes as I stare into the sun. "I feel rude, I just thought, would you like a lift home?" he continues to shout, although I can see his silhouette getting closer, his voice still filled with uncertainty but overruled by politeness.

I laugh, "no, no it's fine. Don't feel rude," I assure him.

"Please, let me, it's the least I can do," he begs, staring at me expectantly, cheeks and nose pink in the cold, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched, bouncing slightly from one foot to the other as he awaits my response.

"Seriously, I don't live nearby, I'm fine," I try to convince him, taking a step back.

"Even more the reason to accept a lift on this cold January afternoon, come on, it can't be that far," he jokes, obviously more relaxed than earlier as he throws me a breathtaking smile.

I stare at him for a moment, weighing up my options, and it's only when I remember that I don't have to pick Ava up that I allow myself to nod slightly, "if you're sure," I say, filled with a strange feeling that I shouldn't be doing this.

"I'm sure," he grins widely before half jogging back to his car. I sigh and follow after him, trying not to stare at his ass in his tight jeans, wondering whether I'd been this enthusiastic at 19.

He's already seated, belt on, engine started as he fiddles with the heating settings before I slid in next to him, letting my bag fall onto the floor at my feet.

"Okay, where to?" he asks, grinning as he looks at me.

I smile back and tell him my address.

"M'kay," my mumbles as he punches the address into his sat-nav, smirking again as the route shows up. "That's not all that far," I hear him mutter under his breath as he backs out of his parking space, grinning shyly at me out of the corner of his eye as he hears me laugh.

The journey passes quickly, conversation coming surprisingly easy considering we've only just met, mostly made up by him asking me a whole array of questions, ranging from; 'Were you born in LA?' to 'So, you're an English teacher, favourite book?' I happily answer them all, leaving anything I deem too personal out. He doesn't seem to notice when I avoid the question about my parents, turning the attention instead to his French ancestry, which although he seems content to talk about, I don't fail to notice his lack of mention of his own father. I wonder whether our reasons for leaving certain details out are the same. I hope for his sake that they're not.

Before long we're pulling into my street, "that house there," I say, directing him a few houses down. He pulls up outside and kills the engine, turning to look out my side at my house as I unbuckle my belt and lean down to grab my bag.

"Is it going to be blue or yellow?" he asks. I turn to face him, confusion evident in my face before I follow his line of sight.

I laugh loudly, right from my stomach as I take in my half blue, half yellow house before turning to face him, shaking my head as I grin. "It's going to be yellow," I reply, having forgotten that the house is half painted, "with a red door," I add as another chuckle escapes me.

"What's so funny?" he asks, laughing in return, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, cheeks a rosy pink in the heat of the car.

I shake my head, "Nothing, I just… I don't know, I forget how funny it looks," I tell him truthfully, glancing out my window at the multicoloured house, struggling to suppress another laugh.

He coughs a little, I turn to look at him, ready to thank him before he speaks, "Did your girlfriend choose those colours?" he asks, evidently trying to sound nonchalant, although I don't miss that his voice cracks slightly on the word 'girlfriend', and his eye's don't quite meet mine, staring past me out of the window.

I repress the knee jerk reaction of telling him the truth; that my niece picked the colours, claiming the house would look like summer. Instead I tell him a different truth; "I don't have a girlfriend," I say as I step out the car, smiling secretly while my back is facing him. _Definitely gay,_I think before I turn and grab my bag, leaning down while the door is still open, my hand outstretched and curled around the metal frame. "I don't have a boyfriend either," I say with a smirk, revelling in the way his face darts up to look at me, eyes bright, lips slightly parted. "Thanks for the ride," I say quickly before straightening up, closing the door with a gentle slam.

I then turn on my heel and walk swiftly towards my front door, not missing the fact that he's yet to restart the engine. I slip my key into the lock and turn it, hearing the now familiar click before stepping over the threshold. I turn at the last moment, unable to prevent myself grinning as I see him peering out of the window at me.

He's blushing, that much is obvious even from this distance, and I watch as a smirk stretches his face as he moves to undo the window, but before he has a chance I lift my hand and wave slightly, pushing the door shut with both hands and an undeniable smile.

/

The next day I do as I promised. I approach the teachers on his list, in order of favourites, and explain the situation to them. Luckily they all seem more than willing to help, and I end up giving all four of them his contact information. I fail to mention however that I copied the information into my phone the night before.

I also don't mention that for a good few minutes my finger had hovered over his number while I contemplated calling him, or that I couldn't stop thinking about the thin strand of grey in his otherwise dark eyes, and I certainly don't mention that while lying in bed I had wondered what his chest looked like beneath his winter coat, what his thighs would feel like beneath my hands.

After a few days of hesitation and inwardly arguing with myself I decide not to call him. I decide to play the responsible adult, unable to shake the feeling that even contacting him is somehow wrong. Despite the fact that he's of consenting age and is not, and never has been my student. I just can't shake the feeling that I'd be getting into something much bigger than myself if I was to try anything with him. So it's with a hint of reluctance that I delete his phone number and email address, promptly sending the image of his mysterious eyes and broad shoulders to the back of my mind.

That is until one night over a month later.


	29. Chapter XXIX

**A/N: Check the date!**

Friday 9th February 2018

**Blaine **

It's night time, but it's far from silent.

I can hear the wind howling outside, bowing the branches of the still bare trees, making them quiver in the sodden ground. I can hear the windows shaking slightly in their frames, doors creaking as thunder roars from grey clouds. I can hear the unrelenting hammering, pounding, smashing of torrential rain against glass and brick and concrete. And I can hear my blood thrumming in my ears as I try to drown out the chaos and calamity of a long week.

Pushing Ava's bedroom door slightly ajar I peer in, relief flooding my body as I take in her still form, chest rising and falling with each breath, completely unbothered by the raging storm outside. I smile to myself, pulling the door shut before descending the stairs. I curl up on the sofa, pulling my previously discarded blanket over my legs as I settle down further, pulling it up to my shoulders as I battle against the pressing night.

I jump slightly as a flash of bright white breaks through my curtains, illuminating the room for the most infinitesimally minute fraction of a second before a deafening thunder snaps and coils from the sky, making me quiver and slither further beneath the thin fabric blanket. The TV aerial had stopped working a couple of hours ago, leaving me with the perfect excuse to reread an old favourite beneath a warm orange lamp.

Just as I start to fall back into the story there's a loud pounding, somewhere close by but muffled by the increasingly loud storm. I sit up, pushing the blanket off as I stand, listening intently for where it might be coming from, certain that it's near enough for me to be concerned. And then it repeats, three loud thumps, noticeable now as frantic flesh against solid wood. Frowning I start towards my curtains, pulling them back an inch to reveal a dark figure at my door, hood pulled up over their face, unrecognisable as far as I can tell. Then my eye's fall on the car at the end of my drive, parked somewhat haphazardly it jolts a vague memory in my mind.

Still frowning I head towards the door, making sure to keep the chain lock on as I crack it open slightly, trying my hardest to keep the heat in and the rain out. The hooded figure glances up quickly, but their face is still shrouded in darkness, unable to make out any features I just stare for a moment, eyes running briefly over their body which offers no clues to who they are.

"B-Blaine?" A slightly cracked voice echoes from the hood. They're male I realise, noticing the broad shoulders, undeniable height and deep voice. His clothing is soaked through, water literally dripping from his elbows and the hem of the sodden hoodie which is clearly too large for him. I notice his hands, bone white and shaking. He's not wearing any shoes, socks blackened by rain, toes visibly curled against the cold.

"Wha-" I begin, not sure of my question before I'm interrupted.

"It's m-me Blaine," the voice says, weak against the unrelenting downfall as a shaking hand rises swiftly to knock the hood back from his face. His hair is black from the rain, plastered against pale skin; he's blinking rapidly against the downpour, a slice of grey catching my attention as his eyes lock helplessly on my own, shoulders and chest heaving.

"George!" I question in shock, his name shooting to the forefront of my mind, along with the image of the exuberant, blushing, shy teenager I'd meet weeks ago.

"Yeah," he sniffles, nodding a little as he runs a purpling hand through his wet hair, scraping it from his face. "H-hi again," he adds with the ghost of a smile. It doesn't reach his eyes, which for the first time I notice are thick with tears, no doubt mingling with the rain which cascades down his hollow cheeks.

"What're you doing here?" I ask incredulously, not wanting to believe that he could be foolish enough to have driven in this weather. "Wait," I tell him quickly before closing the door. I swiftly pull the chain free and open the door fully, darting my arm out I drag him in before slamming it shut again and relocking it. "Are you mental? Are you clinically insane! Why on earth would you drive in this weather?" I ask him, my parent/teacher voice coming out as I unzip his sopping wet jacket, pushing it from his shoulders without a second thought, fearing for his health as I wonder how long he's been out in the storm. But the thin t-shirt beneath is also soaked, clinging to his heaving chest. His clothing drips onto the floor, something which would normally bother me if his crying hadn't suddenly started to escalate.

"I told them," is all he says, and I watch as a fresh wave of tears swell in his eyes before falling thick and heavy down purpley blue skin, and then as if hit by a freight train I realise his skin isn't tinged by cold. Those uneven purple markings around one eye and down the opposite cheek are bruises, red and swollen around the edges; fresh.

My mouth falls open in shock, not really registering his words as my hands reaches out on instinct, tracing along the fist mark etched into his cheek like a burn, watching his bottom lip quiver, bloodshot eyes falling shut as he flinches somewhat before leaning into the heat of my palm, skin icy and damp. "What…?" is all I manage to say.

"I told my parents…" he repeats himself slightly, raising a still quivering hand to rub at his eyes, whether in exhaustion or frustration I'm not sure, "about- about me being, g-gay," he stutters, fear shining in his eyes.

"Oh god," is all I can manage to say before I pull him into a tight hug, wrapping my arms around his surprisingly slim body, disregarding any feelings that I shouldn't be doing this, those qualms quickly being overruled by my need to make him feel loved and needed and cared for. The need to make him feel important, special; _normal_, trying my hardest to erase the no doubt harsh words which were thrown at him, the hurtful, cutting names and the claims that he's somehow 'wrong'. I squeeze him tight, feeling as water soaks from his clothes to mine, feeling as he tenses and then relaxes in my arms, hands sliding tight around me as he begins to sob in earnest, his head burrowing into my shoulder, hair dripping wet down my back as he shakes in my arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he begins to murmur into my skin, "I shouldn't have-" I shake my head, knowing what he's going to say, and I feel as hot tears prick my own eyes, this situation achingly familiar to me.

"Don't be," I tell him, "don't apologise, just… just breath George, just breath and- and calm down. I'm here, I've got you," I promise, repeating reassuring words as I feel his breathing gradually calm, chest still stuttering slightly between us as he pulls away, wiping roughly at his eyes.

"I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry," I shake my head at him, opening my mouth to speak but he just continues as I rub my hands up and down his bare arms, a weak attempt at warming his skin which is goose pimpley beneath my hands. "I just- I had nowhere else to g-go. N-none of my friends know, and I- I just panicked and-" he's shaking his head, unable to control himself as tears continue to stream from his eyes.

"It's fine. I don't mind," I assure him, wiping at my own tear filled eyes hurriedly, "I'd rather you be here and safe than… than unsafe," I finish, stopping myself from saying anything which could only hurt him further.

"I'm sorry," he apologises again, lower lips still trembling as his hands shake uncontrollably.

"Stop apologising, I just… I'm so sorry George, I- I wish I could tell you the world isn't like this but it just is sometimes," I tell him truthfully.

He nods silently, chewing the insides of his cheeks.

"Come on, I'll run you a hot shower and find you some dry clothes," I offer him my hand, which he takes gratefully, palm wet and ice-cold, but no longer shaking as it grips mine tight. I begin to lead him up the stairs, "You'll have to be quiet," I say, turning to look at him, "My… niece is asleep up here," I explain, hoping he doesn't notice my hesitation.

He doesn't, instead his eyes go wide, "I- I didn't know… I'll g-go," he begins to ramble, trying in vain to tug his hand free of mine.

"Don't even try," I say, tightening my grip as I continue to lead him up the stairs, "she's two and a half and sound asleep, I just don't want to wake her," I tell him with an attempt at a smile. He just nods in response, eyes falling to his damp, shoeless feet.

I guide him into my bed room, flicking the light on and closing the door behind us. "I don't know whether I'll have anything that'll fit properly, everything will be a little short," I explain, inwardly beaming as I see a hint of a smile curl his lips.

"That's- I don't need clothes… I don't even know what I'm doing here," he explains feebly.

"Well… I'm not letting you leave, and there's no way I'm letting you stay in those wet clothes," I tell him sternly. There's a moment silence, the drip-drip of water falling from him the only sound as I riffle through my clothes.

And then he speaks, voice low and hesitant, "You were- _are,_" he corrects himself, "the first person I ever… ever _hinted_it at, I guess, you're the first… the _only_ person to have… noticed," he tries to explain, words stuttering as he struggles to clarify why he chose me.

"You don't need to explain to me George, I'm just glad you came here and didn't… didn't stay there," I settle on, skirting around the very edge of his obviously less than accepting parents. He nods a little. "These have always been sort of big on me," I quickly change the subject, my main priority being to get him warm and dry. I throw him the folded sweat pants and turn to my other drawer, pulling it open and rifling around for a second before finding a non-descript black t-shirt I've always found too loose. "And this," I offer him as I step back towards him, smiling a little as he takes it from me.

There's silence, thick with unsaid words of understanding and offers of condolences. "Thank you," he finally says, glancing at my with red eyes, that piece of grey more pronounced than ever as his now black hair frames his face, skin a multitude of hues.

"No problem," I reply before nodding towards the door, he takes the hint and moves out of my bedroom, feet slopping wetly against the tiles as he enters the bathroom, and for the first time I notice that he is limping slightly. Choosing not to mention what other injuries he might have just yet, I flick the light on for him, trying not to stare at his bruised face and arms beneath the harsh lighting. I point out where the towels are for him, and tell him to feel free to use anything he wants.

He smiles a small, weak, hesitant smile before I walk out, pulling the door shut behind me. I stand for a second and listen, waiting until I hear the squeak of the shower being turned on, followed by a loud relieved sigh as the hot water falls over his no doubt frozen skin and aching muscles. I sigh exhaustedly, glancing swiftly towards Ava's door before moving down the stairs and into the kitchen, not feeling right in the warm softness of a lamp, needing instead the harsh fluorescents from which you can hide nothing.

I stand in silence, the raging storm still beating against the large glass which forms one wall, hands flat against the counter, cold seeping into my skin as my mind works furiously. _Why?_I find myself wondering, _why are people, __**kids**__, still being punished for who they are? For who they __**love**__?_I just can't work it out. I couldn't work it out as a terrified 14 year old and I can't work it out a decade later. I grind my teeth together without realising, jaw set tight as my hands clench against the worktop, furious at the thought of my own father, the thought of George's parents, and all the other parents, all over the world, who disown, abandon, beat, kick, punch, _condemn_their children simply because of who they love.

I continue to seethe for a few minutes, allowing my heart rate to increase slightly, allowing my eyes to fall shut as I imagine everything I would say if ever I had the misfortune to meet George's parents. I allow myself to momentarily wonder why I'm willing to argue and shout and fight for this young mans rights, when growing up, and even now, I'm so unwilling to fight for my own with my own parents.

Groaning I turn, leaning my back against the counter, eyes still closed as I feel my muscles relax, tension rolling from me as I take deep breaths. Eventually I hear the stairs creak slightly as someone walks down, footsteps far too heavy to be Ava. Turning I look down the hall, smiling as George turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs. He smiles a little in response, his arms full of wet clothes; sweat pants an inch too short.

"Here, let me," I say, stepping forward and taking them from him. I throw them into the washing machine, putting it onto a high temperature wash, not willing to admit to myself that it's to make sure any blood stains are removed.

"Thanks," he mutters, "for- for everything. For this," he says, motioning weakly around himself as he avoids my eyes.

"It's nothing," I tell him honestly, not minding that he is here at all, just happy that no one here can, or would, hurt him. "Are you hungry?" I ask, remembering that at his age I was never _not_ hungry.

He shakes his head, sniffling a little, hand rising to smooth his still wet hair back from his face, and for the first time I allow my eyes to roam completely over his exposed skin, finally allowing myself to take in his injuries.

His knuckles are bruised and split, causing me to smile inwardly at the knowledge he fought back. One wrist is branded with a distinguishable hand mark, red and purple under the harsh light, finger indents frighteningly vivid. His arms are dotted with bruises, some small and concealable while others are large, fading into various colours, painfully fresh and tender looking. I can see grazes up one forearm, continuing right up to the hem of his sleeve and beyond. And then his face; one jaw tinted with yellow, contrasting with the spattering of dark facial hair he has, his cheek looks frighteningly painful, blue fading to purple which in turn fades to red, swollen and fragile. His left eye, the one with the grey streak, is almost completely black, and it makes my heart ache with how much hatred and disgust and disdain would have to be behind a punch to leave a mark like that.

He becomes self conscious under my inspection, "I- sorry," I quickly apologise, realising how uncomfortable I must have made him.

"No," he laughs, although it sounds hollow. "I must look quite something," he adds with a shrug.

I shake my head, "you look… brave," I finally settle on, stepping forward, unable to stop as my hands reach towards his, squeezing gently.

"I wish I felt it," he mutters, and I wonder whether he meant for me to hear.

"You're braver than I was," I tell him, willing to share my own story if it makes him feel better.

"What… this happened to you?" he asks, and I can hear disbelief in his voice, see it sparking in his eyes and feel it in the added pressure on my hands.

"Of sorts," I reply, "only I was never brave enough to leave." I attempt a reassuring smile although I worry it's more of a grimace, "or to fight back," I amend, running my thumbs over his cracked knuckles.

"I'm sorry Blaine," he stutters, his voice cracking as fresh tears swell down his cheeks.

"Hey, hey don't be sorry for me! I'm fine," I attempt to reassure him, pulling him against me as he sobs into my shoulder. "That was a long time ago," I say as way of reassurance.

"How- how long ago did you…?" He stammers, pulling away enough to look at me, liquid shimmering in his eyes and making them shine bright, but not with happiness.

"Realise? Or 'come out' so to speak?" I allow my hands to fall from the back of his ribs to hold his waist.

"Both, I guess,"

"I think I knew when I was about… 13 probably? Maybe younger but before I never really… realised that other boys were starting to look at the girls, while I was still looking at the boys," I shrug dismissively, "but I was 16 when I told my parents,"

"How did they… what did they…"

"I imagine how my parents reacted was much the same as how yours did, judging by the state of your face," he doesn't reply, but instead just stares at me intently, waiting for me to continue, so I do, unsure of what he wants to hear so I just stumble through the truth. "My father was, _is,_a difficult man. He didn't, still doesn't come to think of it, believe that this is _who I am,_not who I _choose_to be. When I told him and my Mum, they just," I feel as tears threaten to prick my eyes, blinking rapidly to keep them at bay as I focus on the broken man in front of me. "My Mum left. She just looked at me for a second, and left. She didn't," I swallow the lump in my throat, "she didn't _say_anything, or- or _do_anything, she just stood, and left the room. My Father he, he stood up and came towards me. He stood over me and asked me if I was sure, I nodded, I was so terrified I couldn't speak, and then I just remember the deafening crash of his fist against my temple, and the rest is, is just…"

"I know," he whispers, and my heart breaks because he _does_know, he knows more than most what that rejection, that fear, that _hatred_feels like. How it shines in a persons eyes, settles in the lines of their face when they look at you and how it hums in their voice, reverberating in the words they say.

A silence falls over us as we embrace again, the storm outside gradually having quietened down until it is just the unrelenting smash of rain on glass and concrete which resonates around us, the thunderous roars and flashes of white having ended without notice. We both breathe against each other, holding back tears and guarding from hate as we allow our hearts to settle, hands occasionally stroking reassuringly, chests stuttering almost unnoticeably.

"You must be exhausted," I finally say, taking a step back as I wipe swiftly under my eyes.

He laughs, although it's void of emotion. "Yeah, just a bit," he replies sarcastically.

"I still can't believe you drove in this," I shake my head.

"Rather that than stay there," he replies with a nervous shrug.

I nod, unable to comprehend anything worse than staying in that sort of environment. "Bed?" I ask innocently, looking into his beaten face as I wait for a reply.

His eyes go wide quickly, mouth falling open, "I- ur…" he begins to stammer, pulling his hands from mine where I hadn't realised I was still holding them.

I frown, wondering why he's suddenly stammering. I replay the question in my head, and suddenly understanding dawns. "I don't mean-" I begin to laugh, watching his face morph from fear to confusion, lifting one hand to cover my mouth so as to not wake Ava as I watch him with crinkled eyes. "I didn't mean _'let's go to bed together'_," I explain through another chuckle, "I just meant, let's go sleep, because we're both tired, that's all," I reassure him, smiling wider as I watch him blush to the tips of his ears, a grin curling his lips as well.

"Oh right… yeah, good, 'cause I thought… yeah," he's laughing in earnest now, the blush working it's way up his cheeks just visible beneath the bruises as he pushes his almost dry hair back from his face, rolling his eyes at his own foolishness as he grins at me through thick eyelashes.

I just shake my head as I push him gently. He gets the hint and turns, walking from the kitchen and towards the stairs before stopping so suddenly I walk into him. "Where am I…?" he begins to ask, turning to face me, expression now free of laughter, instead just bemused.

"In my bed, I'll sleep down here," I explain, having already figured this out while he was showering.

"No, I- I can't do that. I'll sleep down here," he argues, making to move past me and towards the open living room door.

"Nuh uh," I shake my head, gripping his forearms and turning him, taking hold of his shoulders as I steer him back to the stairs, trying not to squeeze the tensed muscles beneath my hands, trying not to imagine grazing my hands down his biceps and around his waist, trying not to imagine his body quivering at the touch.

"Blaine I can't…" he tries to argue again.

"Shut up and walk," I tell him, pushing him forward as he begrudgingly climbs the stairs. "I'd already decided this so just do as you're told," I tease, feeling the muscles relax beneath my hands as he laughs under his breath.

Before long, and with only a few more weak attempts at protesting, he's buried deep beneath my duvet, head falling against the soft pillows with a sigh, rolling onto his back as he stretches, loud cracks sounding from his spine before he rolls back over and coils into a foetal position, an exhausted groan falling from his lips.

I smile to myself as I watch him discretely, unable to imagine just how amazing a soft, warm, _safe_ bed must feel after such an awful night. I wonder briefly whether he wants any pain medication, but I push it to the back of my mind as his eyes fall shut, eyelashes casting dark shadows against his skin, dark hair splayed messily around his face. I walk around the bed and take my phone from the side table, soundlessly slipping a spare pillow away as well before heading to the door.

"Blaine?" He questions, voice lower than a whisper and muffled against the soft fabric.

"Mmm?" I hum, very aware of Ava only one door away.

"Will you… can- would you mind…" he struggles to form a question, lips stuttering together dryly as I walk closer to him, reaching my hand out on instinct to run it gently through his hair. He blinks sleepily before looking up at me, and I wait, giving him all the time in the world to figure out what he wants, what he _needs_. "Would you stay? Just- just until I fall properly asleep?" he explains, making me smile slowly.

"Of course," I reassure him, moving around to sit next to him on the bed, my spine against the headboard, spare pillow resting at the small of my back. He smiles up at me in silent thanks before his eyes fall shut again, hand automatically searching out mine and curling around it.

I sit in silence, eyes unfocused on George as he drifts off to sleep. I listen as his breathing slows down, unconsciously watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, feeling his fingers flex and tense against my own, smiling when he smiles in his sleep. And I'm not sure how much time passes but eventually I feel as my own eyelids begin to stutter closed, blinking sleepily as I try to force myself to move. But the bed feels so soft beneath me, and the pillow smells so wonderful, and it'd be nice to sleep with some warmth beside me for once. _It's been so long,_I think selfishly as I shuffle inch by inch until I'm laying flat alongside him, the duvet having rucked up around my waist by accident.

I roll over to look at him, eerily beautiful in the moonlight, bruises easily ignorable as his lips twitch slightly. And before I know it my eyes are refusing to open, body instinctively inching towards the warmth and softness and gentle breathing of a body beside me, one arm falling limply around his waist as I fall into a somewhat fitful slumber, filled with mingling images of my father and a man with no face who I assume must be George's.

I don't know how I'll explain this in the morning, or justify it to myself, but right now all I can think of is his warmth seeping into me, along with his pain and his hurt and his suffering, and I hope that in some way I'm easing the ache he must be feeling.

**A/N:**

**_One thing I want everyone to read:_Someone in a review mentioned the timeline to this story, and how if George is applying for university, why 18 months later is he working in Kurt's office. I don't know how familiar everyone is with university application in Britain, or how similar it is to everywhere else in the world... But when you apply for student finances to go to University, you have to submit your parents income and jobs. This is vital to you getting a student loan/maintenance loan/bursary. Basically, without this you can't go University. Parents can easily refuse to give this information, and although it is possible to apply without this information it is very difficult and often time consuming. From George's parents reaction, can you possibly see how he was unable to go to uni, and therefore applied for jobs instead?**


	30. Chapter XXX

Thursday 26th September 2019

**Kurt**

"That's…" I trail off, my mind racing a million miles an hour while being simultaneously shocked into speechlessness. "I-," I look up at Blaine and from the slight blur around the edges of the image I realise I have tears in my eyes. I blink, allowing them to fall, knowing that he'll catch them. And he does, his hand swiftly yet gently cupping my face as the pad of his thumbs runs like a whisper over my cheeks. "I don't know what to say," I finally settle on the truth, raising my hand to hold his which is still resting against my face.

"About- about what happened or- or what I did?" he asks, and I hear nervousness in the tremor of his voice.

"What happened of course, what you did was- I wouldn't have expected anything else," I finally say, knowing Blaine well enough to be able to say with certainty that he has, and always will help people if he can, and sometimes even when he can't.

He laughs a little, although the corners of his mouth don't really curl into a smile and there's a tinge of bitterness at the end.

"What happened next? I mean- that explains how you know each other but… how did you end up dating?" I ask, desperate to see how a relationship which starts out under such strange circumstances can become romantic.

"We didn't for quite a while," he begins to explain, "it was only after he'd been living with us for a few weeks that-"

"_Living with you!_" I ask incredulously, my head snapping back so I can look Blaine dead in the eye as a small part of me hopes I heard wrong.

"Yeah…" he says, frowning at my reaction slightly.

"You mean he… he lived _here,_with you and Av?" I ask, wanting to make absolutely sure that we're on the same page.

"Yes… Does that bother you Kurt?" he asks, and my insides churn at the fact that it does bother me. It really, _really_bothers me.

"I- wha- no-" I stammer, watching as his lips curl into a somewhat devilish smirk before I crumble, "okay, yes, maybe a little," I admit, rolling my eyes as he continues to grin.

"Hey," he teases, tilting my face up to face him as I squirm to look away. "It's nothing to be… embarrassed by," he tells me, struggling for a moment to find an appropriate word, "And certainly nothing to be jealous of," he assures me, that smirk still curling his lips, a glint in his eyes as he revels in my jealous streak. "Anyway," he continues after a moment, pulling me back towards him, "like I was saying, he lived with us for a while. The next day he went back to his parents, to see whether they'd… calmed down I guess, and when he got there the door was unlocked, but there was no one in. There were just three suitcases of his stuff lined up in the hallway, and a note basically telling him to never contact them again," he sighs heavily, arms instinctively tightening around me as I press closer, my heart going out to the guy I've actively been trying to makes life a misery because of one silly mistake weeks ago. I inwardly shudder, vowing to myself that I'll make things right between us.

"That's terrible," I finally say.

"I know. So, he unofficially moved in here. At first it was just going to be a few days, until he found a friend who would let him move in. I guess when you need a place to live is when you discover who your real friends are," Blaine sighs above me, and I feel as he shakes his head slightly in disbelief. "So he stayed here with us, after that first night the living room became his bedroom and we just sort of, fell into a routine. He was amazing with Ava," he says, and I hear the smile in his voice and try my hardest to hold back a second wave of jealousy which rushes through me. "I mean, he was sort of a big kid himself a lot of the time, so that's no real surprise. And… I hadn't been in a relationship since Liam. I'd been on a few dates but nothing- nothing serious, and then suddenly I've got this cute, endearing, clever guy living with me. I don't know; it was obvious when we met that there was... an attraction. I guess it was sort of, inevitable that we ended up… dating," he says.

I struggle to hold back the question of how exactly they just 'ended up dating', and why exactly it was 'inevitable'. Although those were questions I very much want to ask, I doubt I would necessarily want to hear the answers. Not that I can blame either of them, I can see George's charm, and Blaine is undoubtedly perfect. "It was… very nice of you to let him live here," I settle on, struggling to keep my voice even.

I feel him shrug, shuffling slightly against me as his arms tighten around me. "Couldn't exactly chuck him out on the street," he says, and although he says it as a joke I can hear the seriousness in his voice, the realisation that that is exactly what would've happened if Blaine hadn't been the wonderful, caring, generous man he is.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" I ask out of the blue, my heart swelling with love as I move my head back to stare into his open, loving, honest face; long eyelashes, stubbled jaw, pink lips, and those wide golden eyes which I would happily drown in.

"You may have, but it's always nice to hear," he smiles back, leaning forward to kiss me softly.

I'm unable to wipe the grin from my face as I pull back, feeling as heat rushes up my cheeks. "So what happened next, how long did the two of you date for?" I ask, wanting to tie off all the loose ends.

"Erm…" he mumbles, eyes staring blankly over my shoulder as he remembers, "we dated for about, four months," he tells me. "But, he didn't live here all that time, he was here for about half that time. We had this huge, massive, horrible fight about eight weeks into our relationship and he went to live with a friend. We sort of, worked it out but agreed it was probably best he didn't live here, at least for a while. Then, about nine weeks after that… we broke up for good," he shrugs.

"What was the fight about?" I find myself asking without even thinking.

"I can't even remember now," he says, voice full of honesty. "I think it was just one of those stupid fights which just, escalates out of proportion and in the end you forget _why_you're fighting, you just know you are. Admittedly it was a _weird _situation. Like, the age difference, and that fact that I had Ava, and I think he always sort of felt beholden to me, he always saw it as me doing him a favour. I didn't think of it like that, I actually _wanted_him around, but I know he didn't think like that, and I was always _so_protective over him, and it was his first relationship with a guy so, in a way I think he was struggling with just, getting used to that. I don't know, it was a rather… volatile relationship I guess. It's no surprise we didn't last very long," he admits, and I find myself searching his voice for sadness or disappointment but am met with nothing but maybe a hint of regret at how things had turned out. "We ended on good terms but just, one day we would be inseparable and then the next we couldn't stand to be around each other," he concludes.

We lay in silence for a moment, my mind working to fit the pieces together while Blaine lies noiselessly beside me, his breath fluttering against my hair.

After a few minutes I finally speak, "thank you," I say, leaning back to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as I watch his eyes stutter open beneath my touch.

"For what?" he asks, voice deep with sleepiness.

"For telling me," I say, "you didn't have to and well, I appreciate it, is what I'm trying to say,"

"I'd tell you anything Kurt," he says with a smile, leaning forward to graze his lips against the corner of my own.

I smile back, unable to resist it when I see him so obviously happy. "And I'm sorry, for getting a little jealous before," I say, feeling the need to apologise.

"Huh?" he mumbles, his lips having moved to my jaw, gradually moving down towards my neck.

"When you said you lived together," I say as way of explanation.

I feel him chuckle against my pulse, a wave of desire coiling down my spine from the vibrations "well if it makes you feel any better you're more than welcome to live with me," he murmurs as he trails back up my jaw, lips curling to fit against mine, my body intuitively copying before we both freeze, lips tingling mere millimetres apart as his words wash over us.

"W-what?" I stutter, both of us pulling back at the same time, both being met with equally shocked expressions and wide eyes.

"I didn't mean… well, I do, but- not that I don't- I mean… we- you- I-" he stammers, words tripping over one another as he struggles to articulate his point.

"Did you just…?" I begin, unable to finish the question which seems to burn the tip of my tongue.

"I did, but I didn't mean- not that I wouldn't… for _us_to…" he groans, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he swings his legs off the sofa, leaving me cold and alone and exposed behind him.

I move to sit up too, stretching the muscles of my back, buying myself time for my brain to slow down before shuffling against him, only stopping when our thighs and hips are flush together. His elbows are balanced on his knees, face buried in his palms as he shakes his head the smallest amount. "Did you just ask me to move in with you?" I finally ask, taking the dive because I know he won't.

"Yes, but I didn't mean to," he says, causing my heart to lurch in my chest because _fuck,_the truth _hurts_.

"Oh," I utter noncommittally, not quite sure how to respond to such a direct statement

"Not that I don't want to… to live with you," he quickly starts to correct himself, head snapping round to look at me. "I would _love_to live with you. I just…" he looks at me with wide, sorrowful eyes as he runs a hand through his hair, "I just don't know whether- whether we're _there_yet, and I- I want to ask you p-properly, not by accident," he finally says, free hand twitching slightly towards mine but not quite closing the gap.

Another small "oh," escapes my lips as I hurriedly try to get my head around the fact that in his own words he would 'love' to live with me, and yet has just taken back the offer.

He coughs beside me, fingers flexing awkwardly towards mine again before he speaks, "I mean, sometimes my mind just runs away with me and I imagine coming home to you every afternoon," his eye's bore into mine and I can see the truth pouring from his heart and weaving around his words, "feeling our legs tangled together every night," the edges of his lips curl as he finally finds the courage to take my hand, squeezing tight as he continues to speak "seeing your bed hair every morning," he laughs a little, "and I just… _God_!" he gasps, grip so tight I can feel numbness overtaking the tips of my fingers, but I don't care because I'm hanging on every word from his lips. "I want that so bad, I want _you_so bad but I'm- I'm terrified of fucking this up," he finally admits, eyes falling downwards in defeat.

I manage to smile as I squeeze his hand back, "you wouldn't fuck this up," I tell him truthfully. "_We_wouldn't fuck this up," I correct myself, knowing that we wouldn't. "But, if it makes you feel any better," I continue, "I don't think we're quite ready for- for moving in together either," I manage to admit to him slowly, allowing it to sink into my own mind as well. Now the initial thrill has worn off I can see more clearly that we're really not ready for that just yet. "Don't get me wrong, I would _love _to, but like you said, we're not _there_yet. It would be too soon," I tell him, hoping to make it clear to him that I want him just as much as he wants me, squeezing his hand back tight as I try to convey the truth of my words.

He just nods, smiling tiredly as his eyes remain fixed on the carpet underfoot.

"We- we could…" I begin, swallowing the lump of nervousness in my throat and focusing my attention on our joined hands.

"What?" he asks, and I see out of the corner of my eye as his face shifts up to look at me.

"Well we could, and it's just a suggestion, I completely understand if you don-"

"We could what?" He speaks over me, voice edged with urgency, face suddenly serious.

"We could erm… exchange keys," I suggest, chancing a look at him with a tiny shrug of a shoulders.

"We- you- you'd _want_to do that with… with me?" he asks, and the uncertainty in his voice makes my heart break a little.

"There's no one else I'd rather swap keys with," I assure him, grinning widely. The prospect of taking this step with the man I love, with _Blaine_specifically is making my heart thump in my chest, causing my blood to rush faster through my veins, my brain short circuiting as I imagine letting myself into Blaine's house, or maybe seeing his shoes in my hallway when I get home from work.

A wide, hopeful, childlike grin spreads across his face, eyes bright, small wrinkles forming in the corners, rows of white teeth visible. "Really? Are we-" I watch as his tongue darts out to lick his dry lips, eyes flicking searchingly between my own as he swallows, "are we really doing this?" he asks, and the hope which sparks in his eyes makes me feel lightheaded with love.

"If you want to," I offer.

He nods, slowly at first before it speeds up, smile impossibly wide as a small squeak of excitement sounds from within him, "of course I want to!" he almost shouts, body turning to face me more as his hands squeeze mine, bouncing slightly on the seat. Then suddenly he stills, "wait here," he tells me seriously before releasing my hands and jumping up. He rushes from the room, disappearing so quickly that I'm left wondering what's just happened.

And then before I've had the chance to really consider where he might've gone he's back, a few keys jangling in his hand as he drops back into his seat, and I notice they're not his main set as he sidles close to me, body rocking slightly with anticipation. I can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, his smile not having dropped in the slightest, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he struggles to get the spare key free, hands shaking a little, whether from excitement or nervousness I'm not sure.

"Let me," I offer, hands moving to take them from him.

"No!" he half yells, "I want to do it," he tells me, manoeuvring so that his back is angled towards me as he continues to force the key free of the ring. I laugh under my breath, moving forward to weave my arms around his waist while I wait, turning and resting my face against his shoulder blade, revelling in the smell of his cologne. "There!" he exclaims a moment later, and I hear the rough grind of metal on metal, followed by a slight clink as the key comes free of the ring, and then suddenly he's turning in my arms, eye's wide and bright and excited as we both glance towards the small key he's holding.

We then look at each other, him raising his eyebrows slightly before offering it to me, the tiniest hint of fear flashing over his features before I extend my hand towards him, palm facing upwards. He continues to grin like a child at Christmas as he delicately places the key into the centre of my palm, pressing it down, his eyes never leaving mine as he leans forwards, free hand curving to fit my cheek as he pulls me towards him.

Our lips meet softly in the middle, his fingertips tickling my palm as it closes tight around the metal, still warm from his hands. "I love you," he whispers against my lips before he kisses me again, tongue slowly pressing between my lips until they part. We kiss languorously, hands reaching towards each other and holding us together, one of mine balled into a fist, holding tight to this next big step we're taking as he begins to push harder, the kiss suddenly becoming desperate as his tongue tickles the roof of my mouth, a small groan escaping my throat as he presses me back, my spine hitting the arm rest as he quickly swings a leg over my hips, straddling me as he leans all of his weight on top of me.

I groan as he rolls his body against mine, feeling his spine bow above me, his lips leaving my own to dip to that spot beneath my ear before trailing right the way up my temple, his breath warm against my skin as his hands tug slightly at my shirt, working it loose of my trousers before warm, dizzying hands skim up my stomach.

"Wait… wait!" I manage to gasp, free hand tangling in his hair and successfully pulling him back to look at me. I can see worry in his eyes and quickly work to erase that. "You need yours," I tell him, slowly trailing a finger down one side of his face.

"M'kay," he quickly agrees, shifting his weight so that he's kneeling above me, giving me just enough room to slip from underneath him. I stand up, swiftly straightening my somewhat creased clothes before heading to my bag in the hallway. As I walk past him though he reaches out and grabs my hand, running his lips swiftly over my knuckles before dropping it to my side, smiling excitedly as he moves to sit properly.

I work to hide a smile as I feel a blush work up my cheeks. I quickly disappear into the hall and slide the spare key from the pocket of my bag before I rush back into the living room, giddy with excitement as I kneel down in front of him. I reach forward and take one of his hands, uncurling his fingers as I grin up at him, his eyes wide as I slip the silver key into his hand. "Thank you," he whispers before staring into my eyes for the longest seconds of my life, and then suddenly he's kissing me furiously.

Tongue pressing between my lips as I gasp and shuffle closer, his legs parting as I slip in between them, his knees digging into my ribs as they tighten around me, arms tense as they wrap around my neck before his hands drop to my sides, pulling me swiftly and urgently upwards. I stagger slightly as he leans back, dragging me flush on top of him, hands hooking beneath my thighs, forcing me on top of him as our tongues dance against each other, urgent and hungry and unfulfilled as low moans begin echoing from our chests.

And then I'm straddling him, knees and shins pressed into the sofa on either side of his hips as his lips continues to move against my own, tongue trailing along my bottom teeth as hands run needily up my sides, starting at my knees they race up my thighs, hips, waist, ribs before dropping down even quicker and curling around my quivering thighs, gripping the tensing muscles they roam up to grasp my ass, squeezing tight enough to make me gasp, lips pulling away from his as my head falls back slightly, hips stuttering forward, colliding with his, eliciting a low, animalistic growl from his chest as his teeth attach to the tender skin of my neck.

"I'm sorry Kurt," he mumbles between kisses.

"What for?" I ask, although it's quiet and stifled by a deep breath. He doesn't seem to hear as he unbuttons the top of my shirt, one hand settling on the small of my back, holding me against him while the other pushes the fabric of my shirt to the side, revealing more skin as his lips trail along my shoulder, sucking pale flesh between his teeth. "What for?" I ask again, carding my hand through his hair and reluctantly pulling his lips from my skin, his stubble leaving red marks against me.

He looks up at me with wide, blown eyes and it takes him a second to realise what I'm asking. "For- for not- for saying I didn't want-" he stumbles, and I watch as worry grows in his eyes and I smile lovingly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips, silencing his unsure ramblings.

"It's fine," I reassure him, smiling as he hums against my pulse, "we've got plenty of time for that," I say without thinking. He stills against me and slowly inches back, looking up at me through thick eyelashes, head falling inquisitively to the side. "I- I mean-" I try to correct myself, "I mean- if ever you want-"

But then a smile spreads across his face, wide and honest and loving as he watches me stumble over my words. Slowly he brings his hands up to cup my cheeks, shutting me up with a finger held against my lips, "I want to Kurt, just not right now, it's too soon," he says, honesty ringing in each syllable.

"Oh thank God," I sigh, falling so that my head rests against his shoulder, laughter rippling up from my stomach. He wraps his arms around me and begins to laugh along with me, turning his head to kiss my neck gently, "I'm always embarrassing myself when it comes to these serious conversations," I conclude with a final laugh.

He laughs too, arms tightening around me as I snuggle against him. "I love when you get embarrassed," he tells me. "D'you want to see if it works?" he asks, nodding to my still balled hand in response to my quizzical expression.

"But… of course it'll work. It's a key," I say simply, holding back a giggle as I stare at him bemused.

He rolls his eyes, "Come on Kurt, humour me?" he says, looking at me with wide, puppy dog eyes which he knows I can't resist.

I continue to stare at him for a moment, pursing my lips as I try to work out how serious he is. "Fine," I concede, scooting off of him and standing, offering my hand out as he beams at me.

He takes my hand and allows me to pull him upright, not dropping it as he drags me out of the room and to the front door, only releasing me when he needs both hands to unlock the door. He inches it open, turning to grin at me, "have you got-" he begins.

"Of course I have," I reply with a slight eye roll, holding the key up as evidence. He grins widely, eyes bright in the dim light before he pulls the door open wider and hastily pushes me out. "Hey!" I protest, slapping his hand playfully before he gives me a final, gentle shove and closes the door in my face. "Rude," I murmur under my breath, straightening my rucked up shirt and shivering slightly as I glance absently up and down the street.

It's pitch black, wind gently jostling the loose fabric of my shirt as I unconsciously hug my arms around my waist. The street is empty, glowing orange under the street lamps and the light leaking through the curtains of many houses up and down either side.

"Kurt?" I hear Blaine call through the wood, probably wondering why I'm not letting myself in.

"Oh, sorry," I reply, lifting the key in my hand to hold it to the lock, my hands are shaking slightly, and I'm not sure whether it's from the cold or from the sudden swooping in my stomach, coupled with the soaring, flying, lightheadedness I feel as the key slips easily into the lock, metal grinding against metal before I turn it with a hard flick of my wrist, pushing the door lightly and feeling at it moves in front of me, a crack of yellow light appearing before it's swung wide open, two arms darting out to wrap around me and drag me in. I groan in pain as Blaine squeezes me, my arm caught awkwardly between us, hand still holding the key which in turn is still trapped in the lock. "Blaine," I grumble his name, wriggling slightly as a dull ache begins to build in my bloodless hand.

He releases me with a hurried, "Sorry," moving back and allowing me to pull the key loose before stepping properly into the house, I stand beside him as he swiftly relocks the door for the night, turning the key absently in my hands before he turns back to face me, dragging me against him swiftly.

I chuckle lightly as his tongue tickles beneath my ear, breathe hot against my skin. "Blaine," I half moan, tangling my hands in his hair to drag him up to look at me, trying my hardest not to get distracted just yet by his skilled lips.

"Mmm?" he murmurs against my neck before he begins kissing down it, curling his tongue into the dip above my right clavicle and sucking against the muscle of my shoulder.

"Blaine," I groan again, tugging with more force until he finally allows his head to be dragged up, looking at me with wide, lustful eyes, frantically darting between mine, lips parted, breathe coming quicker as his grip unconsciously tightens on my waist.

"What? What Kurt?" he asks somewhat hysterically.

I wait for a second; watching his amber eyes search mine, finger nails digging into my flesh, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the lump in his throat. "I love you," I finally say, hand tightening around the warm metal held in my palm, the indents and grooves digging into my skin and I wonder whether its outline will be forever seared into my hand.

His lips are on mine in a second, wet and hungry and needy as his tongue presses against my own and I gasp, sliding my tongue out to meet his with a new found desperation to taste him and feel him and love him.

He pushes me forward and I stumble, falling back against the stairs with a hollow thump, my elbows searching for purchase on a step as he lowers himself over me, teeth gripping my bottom lip and biting down, dragging it between his teeth as his knees settle either side of my hips. "I love you too Kurt, so much, so, _so_much!" he groans into my skin as his hands dart beneath my shirt, skimming over my stomach muscles which convulse beneath his touch.

We slowly and awkwardly shuffle up the stairs, me remaining beneath him until we reach the top and I can finally stand, dragging him up with me, moaning deeply when he pushes me against a wall and grinds against me, his hand swiftly darts up to cover my mouth, nodding towards Ava's closed door. I giggle silently beneath his hand before he pulls me against him, leaning down swiftly he wraps his arms around my thighs and lifts me, carrying me into his room as I struggle to stifle my laughter. He turns with me still in his arms and shuts the door gently before striding over to his bed and dropping me down onto the duvet.

I'm unable to hold in another giggle as he climbs onto the bed, his knees pressing either side of my hips before he leans over me, hands steadying his weight beside my head as he leans down with a dark, wicked grin curling his lips. I feel as his weight hovers over me, heat rolling from his body as his chest just touches mine, face inching closer, breath warm against my lips as he whispers, words tickling the sensitive skin, "You're so perfect Kurt, and all mine,"

I nod a little as he kisses me slowly, "all yours," I sigh in agreement as his hands dip and roam over my body, not bothering with the buttons of my shirt but instead just tugging it hastily over my head, hands falling to trace down my chest, fingers outlining my ribs as his lips decorate my sternum.

My hand falls open and his key slips from my grasp as I swiftly work his top over his head, throwing the fabric to the floor as his lips attach to my neck, nudging my face to one side to expose more skin and I groan, eyes opening sharply as he bites down particularly hard on one spot, soothing it with his tongue and I watch as his hand beside my head also falls open, our keys falling into the dip where his hand was before it moves to quickly unbutton my jeans, pushing them down my thighs along with my boxers. When I look again our keys are gone, lost among the increasingly wrinkled bed sheets and I worry for a second, but then his weight shift above me, a knee pressing between my thighs and the potentially lost keys float from my mind as I take in the glorious man above me.

We rapidly undress each other, items of clothing being thrown crumpled to the floor in exchange for hands on bare skin and lips on bare skin and hot, overly sensitive, flushed skin rutting and sliding and sweating against each other. And then without warning there is a hand wrapped tight around my cock, pumping gently as I silently keen, flailing towards his bed side table, hand searching the drawer for lube before thankfully closing around the small bottle.

I swiftly press it into his unoccupied palm, whimpering as a sinful smile curls his lips, eyes bright in the dim light. I admire him in awed silence for a few seconds, hair curling and sticking to his forehead, eyes hooded, arm muscles tensing and relaxing with each pump of my cock, and then finally I hear the pop as the cap comes open and shiver as he smears some onto me, my legs instinctively opening more as I hold in a impatient whine, hearing him squeeze some more onto his fingers.

"Kurt, you have to stay silent," he chastises me, playfulness and seriousness mingling in his voice to form something evil, "can you do that for me?" he asks, leaning back over me, finger pressing against my perineum as my hips jerk forward, cock rutting against the ridge of his hip bone. "Can you?" he repeats. When I don't answer he stops all movement, lips suspended millimetres from mine before I feel a slick finger slide into me, my eyes instantly screwing shut at the burn, body curling towards the welcome intrusion as a moan forces it way through my lips.

He slams his mouth against mine, stifling the noise, simultaneously sliding in a second finger causing me to jolt and jerk and quiver against him, unable to breath sufficiently through my nose as dizziness overcomes me. And then he leans back, my lungs begging for air as I breathe heavily beneath him, eyes falling open to be met by a wide, devious smile. "Fuck Blaine," is all I am able to whisper brokenly as my chest aches for air and my brain begs for blood and my body trembles for more.

"I wasn't joking when I said you have to be quiet Kurt, I think walking in on sex could quite disturb a four year old," he says calmly as his fingers begin to move inside me, his even voice and serious face just making me feel even more desperate beneath him, the need to be silent turning me on in a way I've never imagined it would. "Promise me you won't make a sound," he insists.

"I- I promi-ise," I stutter below him, hands moving to hold his hips, trying desperately to press him on top of me more thoroughly, wanting to feel his weight bearing down on me, his cock hard against my skin.

"Let's see how good you are at keeping your promises," he teases, the speed of his fingers inside of me increasing as he watches me dampen my lips, neck craning to capture his lips, thighs opening even wider, and then suddenly without warning he swiftly slips in a third finger and crooks them, stroking my prostate hard as my body judders and shakes, muscles seizing up beneath him as desire curls and coils and burns through my body.

But I somehow manage to keep silent, head thrown back in a frenzy, thrashing from side to side with the pent up tension of being unable to make a sound, spine curving from the mattress as I press down harder against his fingers, hands flying up to tug at my own hair.

"Fucking hell Kurt," he moans above me, breaking his own rule before I see his eyes widen, pure black and completely blown as he takes in my keening, trembling, silent state, head dipping instantly to nuzzle against my skin, tongue desperate against my sweaty skin, teeth rough as they drag down my chest.

"Please Blaine- fuck, I- please," I manage to whisper, pressing my hips up, feeling with a surge of heat down my thighs as our cocks rub together.

And then his fingers are gone, both hands gripping my hips, nails digging in as he tugs me down slightly, aligning us before I feel the head of his cock pressing against me, thick and wet and perfect, my legs rise to wrap around him, heels pressing down on the small of his back. "Kurt?" he says my name and it takes a moment for me to realise, my mind overtaken my need and desire and want and _for fucks sake can you hurry up?_He seems to realise my mental struggle and tilts my face round to look at him, a hand lacing around one of my own still tangled and knotted into my hair. "Remember… not a sound," he repeats as his other hand forces both my legs over his shoulders, ankles instantly locking behind his neck, Then the hand in my hair moves to hold both of my own, stretching them above my head as he holds both my wrists against the mattress with one hand, the other steadying his weight.

I nod, not trusting myself to so much as open my lips in the fear of a string of loud, obscene curses spewing from my throat. The smallest hint of a grin spreads across his face before he pushes into me, agonisingly slowly until he's ball deep and the burn is _so_ painful, but the pleasure is so, _so_fucking perfect that within seconds the sting is overruled and I'm struggling to keep my mouth shut.

"Shhh," he mumbles into my burning skin, repeating it over and over again as he sucks little chunks of flesh between his teeth, nipping lightly before moving to the next piece, his hips beginning to move faster, building up a rhythm as his tongue dips hungrily between my lips, my mouth working desperate against his as I try to drag my arms free of his hands.

But he's stronger than me, his entire weight pressing down on me, a wonderful, sweaty, trembling mess of dark curls and wet lips and shuddering hips which I struggle against; my arms thrashing to be released, fingertips burning with the need to touch, to outline muscles, to scratch down unblemished skin.

And then he releases my hands so suddenly that my mouth falls from his and a groan tumbles from my chest before I have a chance to stop it, my legs dropping from his shoulders and instead tightening around his hips as his hands come to rest either side of my head. Blood flows swiftly back into my hands and they fumble as they trace his sweat slick body, shaking as they tangle around his neck and I hear him struggling to stifle his own moans into my flushed skin. His hips are sporadic as he slams into me with increasing fervour, making me keen and arc and tremble, falling to pieces, feeling like my bones will shatter any second as that unmistakable burning, spiralling, falling feeling overtakes my limbs and my mind and then a hand closes tight around my cock and I quickly raise my own hand to stuff the heel of my palm into my mouth, eyes screwing shut as I moan into my own skin.

And then I'm lost, completely gone, catapulted into the abyss as my hips jerk upwards and come erupts in strings over my chest and drips down his hand and he just continues to moan silently into my skin, stroking me through my orgasm as his hips quicken slightly and his teeth close around a chunk of my neck and sweat drips from his jaw to slide down my chest. Within seconds I feel as his body convulses above me, head nudging my hand from my mouth frantically to replace it with his own, sucking what's left of the air in my lungs into his own as he gasps and grinds into me own final time before a familiar warmth spreads inside of me, hips momentarily uncontrollable against me as he pushes me harder into the mattress with his entire body and then he falls.

Body shuddering with a final wave of pleasure before he crashes down, chest heaving against my own, slippery on top of me as his head rests exhausted against my sternum, breathe tingling my still sensitive skin, my legs falling from him achingly. There is silence as both our breathing slowly begins to even out, my arms intuitively wrapping around the warm, familiar body on top of me as my eyes fall shut and I just allow myself to revel in this moment.

But eventually he interrupts the silence, voice deep and gravely, "fuck-ing hell," he sighs, enunciating each syllable as he continues to breath heavily through his mouth.

"I know," I reply, still coming down from my high as I watch him move rhythmically up and down on my chest with each breathe I take, hair rumpled and damp, hand splayed against my still pounding heart.

"That was…" he begins, turning to look up at me, chin resting against my chest as I look down and meet his eyes.

"I know," I repeat, unable to think of anything else to say as I shake my head feebly.

He shakes his back, also seeming unable to describe just how fucking amazing that was. He changes position slowly, hands resting against the mattress as he moves to hover above me, slowly pulling out of me and whispering "I'm sorry," over and over against my neck as I whimper. He then falls beside me heavily and drags the thick duvet up over our rapidly cooling bodies, smiling in the darkness as he sidles up next to me. "You're…" he struggles for a moment, eyes rapidly taking in my face before continuing, "amazing… and beautiful, and perfect," he tells me before kissing me softly.

I chuckle under my breath, returning the kiss with a shake of my head, "I think you'll find that's _you_you're describing," I tease, knowing he see's himself as anything but.

He shakes his head back as his leg hooks over mine, dragging my lower body closer to his, arm weaving around my waist as he buries his head further into my neck, "Nope," he responds, lips popping around the 'p'. I open my mouth to protest but he continues, anticipating the interruption; "No arguing with me," he says seriously, making me laugh lowly again as he leans back an inch to smile at me.

I smile back, eyes roaming over his gorgeous face, ears adjusting to listen to his soft breathing, heart swelling and growing and encompassing his sleeping form as I fall quickly asleep, something sharp digging into my side. It's no surprise when I dream of keys and of coming home to find Blaine already there.


	31. Chapter XXXI

Wednesday 16th October 2019

**Kurt**

Everything is changing around us, trees are in varying stages of bareness, tinged in orange and brown and burning red in the low sunlight. The wind is harsh and cutting, nights drawing to bitter closes earlier and earlier, the mornings taking forever to sink into lightness. But there are other changes as well; I'm catapulted into preparing for Christmas; assisting with photo shoots, planning store layouts, window displays, advertising campaigns. It's never ending and relentless and time consuming. On top of this Blaine's starting to prepare his students for their January exams, starting to do after school classes for those who want to attend, bringing home extra work to mark, planning lessons more in advance.

These increases in work load and stress begin to eat into our already limited time together. And then without either of us realising we're going days without seeing each other, and then suddenly these days stretch into a week, sometimes longer. And then when we do see each other we're both too exhausted to be bothered to make an effort and go out for dinner, or even just to see a movie, both falling exhausted into bed and winding around the body beside us, before waking up and doing it all over again.

So when I find myself literally swamped at work I often end up calling Blaine, trying desperately to rearrange plans, apologising over and over again, taking work home just in the hope I'll get an afternoon with him. It's only when my phone battery runs out at work that I realise with a stab of panic that I don't have his number saved anywhere else, and with another stab of panic I remember that I'm meant to be seeing him tonight. With no way of contacting him I groan, internally praying he won't be too mad.

I leave work at 11.49pm and the address I give the taxi driver is not my own. I fall in and out of sleep as London passes by my window in a blur of lights before eventually we pull up abruptly, shaking me from my half sleep. I quickly pay the driver and slide from the vehicle, tightening my jacket around my slightly shivering body as I shuffle up to Blaine's front door, smiling when I see the living room light is still on; bright and warm and welcoming.

I knock lightly against the door, too lazy to bother trying to find my key, rubbing tiredly at my eyes as I wait. At first there is no response, no sign of life, and then I hear the scrap of metal against metal. I hold my breath as the door creaks open, his face falling into view, silhouetted against the light within.

"Kurt?" he questions, voice slightly croaky before he clears it with a cough, pulling the door wider open.

"I'm so sorry Blaine," the words tumble from my mouth before I've even had a chance to smile at him, "my phone died, and then this woman arrived, and she hated everything, and I thought I'd got your number on my laptop but apparently I haven't," I ramble, trying to explain, shaking my head and presenting him with my dead phone as evidence.

"It's fine Kurt, I figured something must've happened, but why're you here now?" he asks, stepping aside and allowing me to walk in, and it's only in the dim light of his hallway that I notice the dark circles under his eyes, slightly paler skin, hair even more unruly than usual.

"I wanted to see you," I say as means of explanation, "I promised."

"You really didn't have to come over this late Kurt," he laughs lightly, raising his hands to press the bases of his palms into his eyes as he yawns widely.

"I wanted to see you," I repeat, taking a step towards him, tangling our hands together and pulling his from his blood shot eyes, "you look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he laughs it off, "Av had a bit of trouble going sleep," he shakes his head, "and I've just been marking some papers," he nods towards the brightly lit living room.

"Mind if I stay? It's been eight days," I ask, squeezing his hands softly.

He shakes his head as he turns and walks into his living room, "not at all," he says through another yawn before falling back against the sofa, an array of papers spread out on his coffee table, some having fallen off and onto the carpet.

"You're so organised," I whisper, shedding my jacket before falling down next to him.

He just smiles in response but doesn't say anything, picking up his pen and the essay he must have been halfway through. Silence engulfs us as he reads through it, his dry lips soundlessly forming the words, occasionally dropping the paper onto the table to scribble a note in the margin, hand writing scrawled and almost illegible.

"May I?" I ask, motioning towards the paper he's just finished and dropped onto what must be his 'done' pile. He glances around and waves his hand absentmindedly, nodding a little before moving onto the next one. I scan the words, not really reading them before focussing my attention on Blaine's scrawled messages. I smile as I decipher them, many praises of good work while others draw attention to improvements that should be made. "What's this say?" I ask him, pointing towards a particularly unreadable cluster of words.

He glances over, angling his head to read it, "Excellent analysis of syntactic parallelism" he reads before re-focusing on his other work.

I nod a little before placing it neatly back on top of his rather less neat pile. We sit in silence. The scratching of pen against paper the only sound coupled with my hands tapping against my knees. I glance around the room, searching for a distraction, a book, the TV, but eventually my eyes just fall on Blaine; my favourite distraction. Smiling to myself I sidle slightly closer, lifting my hand to run through his hair, pulling it back from his face before lightly stroking behind his ear, leaning forward to press a kiss to his neck, his jaw, the corner of his lips.

He grumbles my name, shrugging me off as he continues to read, eyes darting from side to side. I sigh dramatically, still getting no reaction from him. _I need to strengthen my attack,_I think as I turn to face him properly, kneeling as I awkwardly swing one leg behind him, my body falling into the space between his back and the sofa.

I see the ghost of a smile play across his lips as he edges forward slightly, allowing me more room as I shuffle until comfortable. Once settled I curve my legs to press flush against either side of his, leaning forward, my hands fall against his shoulders, adding pressure as I kneed the tense muscles beneath my fingers, gently massaging his neck and shoulders, revelling in his warmth which I've missed so much

He groans, head falling slightly back as his eyes fall shut. I take advantage of this and lift my legs, wrapping them firmly around his waist, gently pulling him back until his spine is curved flush against my chest, my lips instinctively searching out the tender skin at the back of his neck, continuing to work his skin beneath my fingers as my hands roam down his sides, pulling him tighter against me before dropping to graze his thighs.

He shudders against me as both hands run up the inside of each thigh. "I can't," he says, head falling against my shoulder as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You can," I assure him, moving my lips to nibble on his earlobe, tongue pressing against his pulse, feeling as it beats beneath my lips. Suddenly I'm feeling a lot more awake.

He chuckles, hands tangling with my own as he removes them from the buttons of his jeans, sitting up slightly he brings them up to press a kiss to each palm before letting them drop back down either side of him, sitting forward to continue with his work.

I give it a few minutes before trying again, running my palms soothingly up his ribs, lips pressing between his shoulder blades, legs tightening where they're still wound loose around his waist.

"Kurt, seriously; stop," he says, voice suddenly serious, hands gripping my own and removing them from his body, planting them firmly on my own legs, which he in turn slides from around him.

"But why?" I whine behind him, elongating the last syllable as I continue to press my chest against him, desperate after what feels like forever for his touch and his skin and his smile.

"Because I've got work to do," he tells me firmly.

"Do it tomorrow," I advise, bringing my cold hands down to the hem of his t-shirt, quickly darting them up his spine, lips humming against his neck.

"Can you just stop? I don't come to you while you're at work and do this_,_" he complains, batting my hands from his body and leaning back quickly, knocking me off of him and into the back of the sofa.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," I reply, hoping to sound playful. But he just ignores me, pressing an essay down with a little too much force before yanking the next one up. "Can't we just…" I murmur after a few minutes, lacing my hands around his hips, one last attempt as I skim one beneath his loose top, the other gently resting over his crotch, stroking him through denim.

"Kurt; Stop!" He chastises me, tugging both hands forcefully off of him and shuffling forward until he is perched on the very edge of the sofa. Putting so much space between us that I could easily move from behind him without him noticing.

And I do; muttering a petulant "fine," as I slide away from him, sidling out of the room without a second glance and disappearing upstairs. I shrug on some on my pyjamas which I keep at his before crawling into his bed; alone. I don't sleep though; I can't, knowing that his warmth is so close and yet not here.

It's an hour later when I hear his weight creaking on the bottom step, the groan of the door as it opens. I hear shuffling as he changes his clothes. I feel as the bed sinks slightly beside me and hear as he sighs into the soft fabric, and I wait. I wait for an arm to stretch towards me, a kiss to fall onto my shoulder, my name to be spoken. But none of those happen. Instead he rolls over, back to me, and falls instantly asleep.

That's the first time we lie in the same bed without touching, without limbs intertwining and heads resting on chests and hands tangled in hair. That's the first time we don't finish the night by saying 'I love you' to one another. That's the first time I'm reminded that he has the power to break my heart, and very well might; again.

Wednesday 6th November 2019

The next morning nothing was mentioned about him ignoring me, and I was far too scared, and still am, to bring it up, so we just carried on as we were, not really seeing each other, quick, stifled conversations over phone lines, messages left on answer machines and late night appearances at his house, never daring to use my key to let myself in.

He dragged me from work one afternoon, down right demanding that I spend an hour ice skating with him an Ava; That night I left work at midnight. Ice skating took a total of five hours, including getting there and back and the dinner Blaine insisted on us all having together. It was sweet, but I was exhausted and it set me back massively.

And now, once again it's been days since I last saw Blaine, and once again, despite my best efforts it's impossible to get a day, or even an afternoon free.

Right now for example I'm stood at my desk, riffling through papers searching desperately for that one sheet with the details of some apparently vital Christmas event which I can't find and don't even know what it looks like. Outside the scurrying of rushed workers in the main office area mingles with loud talking and the incessant slamming of fingers on keyboards, the whirring of a printer non-stop in the background.

With a defeated sigh I slide my phone from my pocket and press Blaine's name before holding it to my ear, tapping my foot irritably as it continues to ring before clicking over to voicemail. I practically growl at the devise before it beeps and I begin my message, my voice rushed and slightly higher than usual, "Hey Blaine, it's me… Look, I'm really sorry but I can't come over tonight. I know we've had this planned for forever and I know plans keep getting changed but-" my door swings open and I turn to face John, his mouth opening as if to speak before I shout over him, "no! I'm on the phone; someone else can deal with it," I tell him with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"Is that Joe?" he asks, nodding towards the phone in my hand.

"No, I'm calling him after," I reply, moving to push him out of the room.

"You do know it's the 6th today right?" he asks sceptically, head cocking to the side, "that means we've got to-"

I cut him off as with a final shove he is over the threshold of my office, "yes, yes I'm well aware of what fucking day it is, thank you very much John," I reply scathingly before closing the door and locking it. I watch through the glass as he stares at me for a moment. "Fuck off then," I shout at him through the glass, glaring at him as I do so. He rolls his eyes before walking away.

"Eurgh," I groan down the phone, "Yeah, as you can probably hear it's mental here so I can't make it. I'm so,_so_sorry. You have no idea how much I just want to come home to you and sleep. I'll try and make it over tomorrow, but I really can't promise anything at this point. I'm sorry; again. I love you, so much. Bye," I finish in a rush, pressing the 'end' button before turning my full attention to the mess which is my desk.

**Blaine**

It's my final lesson of the day when I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh. Luckily none of my students seem to notice, else they'd all tease me with 'it's school policy that all mobile phones are turned off during class' as I often recite to them when I catch them sneaking a text under their desk. Not that I mind all that much.

But as soon as the bell rings and they've all disappeared I slide it from my pocket to see a missed call from Kurt, and a voice message. _He's cancelling on me again,_is all I can think as I press to listen to the voice mail, packing my stuff into my bag as I do so.

I listen with a tired expression as he explains that's he's _so_ busy, he's got _so_ much work to do, he's _so_sorry, the usual stuff, before he comes to a rather abrupt end and I sigh heavily, rubbing at my tired eyes before pressing to call him back. I walk from the building as it rings, waving goodbye to a few colleagues as I do so before it clicks over to voicemail. I hang up; not wanting to leave a message and press his number again as I head in the direction of Ava's school.

Once again it rings and rings until it clicks over to voicemail, and once again I hang up and redial. By now I'm getting frustrated; he _always_ has his phone on him, especially when at work, _is he ignoring me?_ I think, and just as that thought races through my mind he answers.

"Joe!" he shouts down the line; I bite the inside of my cheek to hold in the retort which jolts through my mind.

"Blaine," I say coldly after taking a moment to calm myself.

"Blaine?" he questions, and in my minds eye I see his eyebrows rise in surprise, "did you erm… did you get my message?" he asks, and I can already hear that he's distracted, his mind already moving away from the fact I'm on the phone. I hear someone shout his name in the background before I reply.

"Yeah, that's what I'm calling about," I tell him, struggling to keep the unjustified anger from my voice; because it's quite obvious how busy he is, and I'm only too aware of how unexpectedly a workload can build up. But somehow today had just got to me. All day, scratch that; _all week_ I've been looking forward to a calm, relaxing dinner with my boyfriend, who I haven't seen _properly_in what feels like _forever,_ I'm looking forward to falling asleep with his body warm against my own, and then at the last minute he cancels. Again. Who can blame me for being a little angry?

"Uh huh," he mumbles distractedly before I'm forced to listen to his quick conversation with a voice I don't recognise, all the while I'm speaking his name down the line, a little louder each time.

"Kurt!" I finally half yell.

"Yeah? What? I'm listening," he says, and it's the downright lie which hurts the most.

"No. You're not," I say, shaking my head as I continue to walk, my jaw set tight as anger spikes through my mind.

"Yeah I am, what's up?" he responds, his voice distant and preoccupied.

And just as I open my mouth to speak he begins a conversation with someone else. I sigh loudly, hoping he'll hear and excuse himself to rejoin our conversation; but he doesn't. He keeps talking to this unknown person for a whole minute before turning a miniscule fraction of his attention to me.

"Are you actually going to have a conversation with me now!" I ask starkly, voice rich with anger.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just so busy here," he says absentmindedly as way of apology. I grind my teeth, running a hand roughly through my hair as I take a deep breath.

"Is it really too much trouble to ask for your undivided attention for like, two minutes?" I question, anger seeping into each syllable.

"Fine," he says bitingly. "What d'you want?" and somehow those few words just send me hurtling over the edge. I close my eyes tight, jaw clenching, free hand fisting at my side as I take a deep breath before replying.

"Look Kurt, it's not my fault you've got loads of work to do! Don't get all self righteous with me just because I actually _want_to see the man I love every so often."

"What're you implying?" he asks, and I can practically taste the venom laced around those words.

"It just feels like I'm putting a hell of a lot of effort into _trying_to see you, rearranging meetings and skipping lunch to do work all in the hope I can actually _spend some time with you_, when all you seem to do is cancel at the last fucking minute," I growl.

"_Excuse me!_" He practically screeches, "_You're_'putting in a hell of lot of effort'?" he repeats back to me, voice incredulous as he continues, "well Jesus Christ Blaine, does that include when you literally _dragged_me out of work to go fucking ice skating. I got home at gone midnight that night Blaine, and you still had the audacity to have a go at me when I couldn't come round the next day."

"Does that include when I made an effort to come round yours like I'd promised, just wanting to see you and maybe speak to you, only to have you push me away and have a go at me for wanting to touch my boyfriend. And then you got into bed and didn't even fucking say anything, just rolled over and went to sleep. How do you think that makes _me_ feel? Like shit Blaine, that's how it makes me feel."

"And does that include the dozen or so times I've made an effort to come over to yours, all those evenings I've made you dinner and sat and watched a film _despite_the fact my boss is breathing down my neck and _despite_the fact I'll get up at half fucking four the next morning for work? Well I'm sorry if that's not enough effort but I honest to g_od_, do not know what else I can do!" his voice grows steadily louder as he speaks and I feel as my blood begins to boil beneath my skin.

"That's not the point Kurt. I didn't _force_you to do any of those things. I-" I try to explain before he cuts me off.

"So you'd rather I hadn't bothered? Fan-fucking-tastic Blaine, just brilliant, next time you beg me to come out with you and Ava I won't bother; I'll just wait for your direction before doing anything, ever, shall I? I won't bother making you dinner and telling you I love you shall I? Is that what you fucking want?" His sarcasm is cutting and makes my head ring as I feel a headache coming on.

"Can you just stop being such a bitch and just _listen to me_! I'm not-"

"No! You fucking listen to me. I'm not being a bitch. I have every right to want to stay here and get my work done and get it done properly, this is my career we're talking about, so I'm _sorry,_if just lately I haven't been around 24-fucking-7 but I have other stuff going on in my life. Maybe it wouldn't hurt for you to make a bit more of an effort."

"Will you please just _shut up_ for once and _listen_?" I shout, passersby glancing in my direction before looking away with frowns on their faces. "I _do_ make an effort. But you seem to forget that I have Ava as well. I can't just drop everything and turn up at yours at midnight, I can't exactly get all my work done early in the week, my job _does_ require me to be there during certain times, I can't just come and go as I please."

"That's not the point Blaine! The point is that in the past month I can count on one hand the combined number of times you've came round mine, the number of times you've made me dinner and the number of times you've just _been_with me, even if I'm doing work. And if you honestly think I'd rather be here with a pile of work to do and a room full of loud, obnoxious idiots than coming home to you… well you're a lot fucking stupider than I realised."

"Kurt, this isn't a question of what you would _rather_ be doing, it's a question of what you are _choosing_to do! If you actually _wanted_ to see me you'd find a way, you wouldn't have to keep cancelling at the last minute and recycling the same, worn out excuses," I snarl down the line as my mind continues to work a million miles an hour. "I'm fed up of this. I'm fed up of getting excited about seeing you and I'm fed up of getting my hopes up, and I'm fed up of planning things to do and then seeing that stupid, all too familiar fucking 'missed call' message pop up."

"And you don't think I feel like this? You don't think I've hated these past weeks, God Blaine, this isn't all about you!"

"I'm fully aware that this isn't about me, it's getting quite difficult to think _anything_ is even remotely related to me when all I get is your excuses and your problems and your 'I'm so sorry's which are starting to get _really_ old, _really_ fast," my free hand is clenched into a tight fist, knuckles white as the skin is pulled tight over bone.

"What do you want me to say Blaine? There's only a limited number of ways I can apologise," he replies, voice laced with anger.

"I want you to say 'I'm really looking forward to seeing you later Blaine, I've missed you'."

"You know for a fact I can't see you later, and I've made it perfectly clear how much I miss you, and the fact that you're asking me to drop all my work in exchange for you is quite frankly the most _selfish_ thing I can imagine," he spits and I can practically see the tight set of his jaw and the anger in his eyes.

"So now it's selfish of me to want us to spend time together? I thought that was sort of the point of being in a relationship? I thought that was sort of what you do when you're in love with someone?" I find myself shouting down the line, stopping stock still in the middle of the street as I wait for his reply.

"Oh my god! I actually can't believe you right now! I'm trying so fucking hard to make you happy, to see you as often as I can, and all I get is you shouting at me and ignoring me and calling me a bitch! I just- g_od_Blaine… you're so _fucking _frustrating," he growls as I begin walking again, angrily stomping towards Ava's school.

"_I'm_frustrating?" I shout, shaking my head despite the fact he can't see me. "What's frustrating is you _continually_cancelling plans. What's frustrating is when you ring up and leaves a _voice message_ instead of having the balls to tell me. What's frustrating _Kurt,_is knowing that while I'm sat at home waiting for you, you're probably at some photo shoot with a load of gorgeous men!"

"I- wait… _what!_" he asks, and I can see in my mind as his eyes go wide in disbelief, his grip tightening on his phone, I can practically hear his heart rate double before he speaks, "so this is… this is about _trust_ now?" he asks, voice frighteningly steady.

And instantly I know I've gone too far, but blood is still pounding in my ears and my brain is foggy with anger and my jaw is beginning to ache and before I can stop myself I'm stood unmoving and speaking again; "I- Yes! It's about trust… how do I know that when you ring and say you're staying late at work you're not going home with some guy? How do I know you're not fucking someone behind my back? How do I know I can trust you? It wouldn't be the first time you've given me reason to doubt you!"

I hear the faintest gasp and then silence, heart breaking silence as my breathing calms, pressing the phone closer to my ear in desperation. Eventually he speaks, but his voice is quiet and noticeably strangled, and I can practically hear as he holds back a sob. "Blaine…" he begins, and the sudden calmness in his voice makes my heart rate triple, "I just-" he takes a shuddering breath, and I feel as a break forms in my heart, the sudden realisation of what I've done washing over me like ice cold water but I'm frozen, lips refusing to move as I listen to him. "I can't do this," he admits in a whisper, "I just can't- I can't believe…" he trails off as the break in my heart widens slightly, "I can't do this," he repeats. And then he hangs up, the dull monotonous whirring of the dial tone ringing in my ears.

My arm drops heavily to my side as my mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide and unblinking, my heart hammering painfully against my chest, one hand instinctively rising to press against it, to make sure it doesn't jump straight from inside of me with how hard it's pounding. And then my vision blurs and the world swims in front of me, the Earth tilting on its axes as I stagger slightly, forcing my eyes closed as I take a deep shuddering breath and straighten up; fighting against the encroaching head ache before opening my eyes, thankful that the ground seems to have righted itself.

And for a moment I just stand, mind racing but reaching no conclusion, and then suddenly I remember Ava. I turn and head in the direction of her school, eyes not really focused as my hands shake either side of me and my legs guide me.

I finally reach the school and stop a few metres from the other waiting parents, just close enough that Ava will see me when she leaves the school. As I wait I glance stupidly at my phone, I glance at the buildings around me, the people gathered not far away, all the while looking for a sign telling me what to do, how to fix this, an explanation to why I've been such an idiot.

And as I wait a million memories flood my mind; I remember Kurt arriving on my doorstep at nearly midnight and just sitting wrapped around me while I mark papers, kisses trailing down my spine before I pushed him off. I remember crawling into bed and purposefully not turning to him, treating it as a strange punishment for his irritating me.

I remember barging into him at work, demanding that he comes skating with us. I remember telling him that he never did anything fun anymore, I remember guilting him into coming with us before he gave in, despite his work. And then I remember his hand twining with my own, his reassuring smile and the trust I felt as I let go of the edge and let him pull me slightly into the centre. I also remember how I'd been angry with him the Sunday afterwards when he couldn't come out for dinner.

But I also remember a lot of 'I've got to cancel tonight' messages, but now thinking back I remember they were always followed by a string of apologies. I remember the tone of his voice and that sadness which only now I'm really picking up on. I remember that every message ended with 'I love you'.

And among these waves of memories, not one of them seems to include _me_making the extra effort. I can't once remember meeting him after work to walk home with him, or waiting at his house ready for when he gets home, even if it was just to have dinner together before he started working again. Not once do I remember tangling my body around his while he types into the early hours. I have made little to no effort, comfortable sitting and waiting for him to come to me when really he had no time and I had so much spare time.

I close my eyes as realisation dawns and almost knocks me over with the force of a tsunami; I've been an awful boyfriend. A selfish, blind, unworthy boyfriend. And I've accused him of cheating on me. _Oh god, how am I going to fix this?_ I ask myself over and over again as I wait, wind howling past me and infesting my skin, my heart frozen and under threat of breaking.


	32. Chapter XXXII

**A/N: Note date and POV changes throughout the chapter…**

Wednesday 6th November 2019

**Blaine**

My heart continues to hammer in my chest as I wait until eventually I hear laughter in the distance, high pitched innocent laughter as children start to pour from the school gates, and still frozen in shock I allow my eyes to search the crowd for dark hair and a red coat. And then I see her, grinning mischievously up at Molly, hands motioning in front of her as she tells a story. They reach Molly's dad who's stood waiting, I watch as he speaks to Ava, laughing at something she's said before scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for me.

I step forward, waiting for them to spot me, and when Ava does her face lights up, and I briefly wonder whether I'll ever get bored of seeing her happy to see me. I smile at Molly's dad who raises his hand and waves, smiling back. As Ava makes her way over to me she begins to rifle through her bag, eventually pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. She reaches me and beams, "I drew this for Kurty," she says as she presents it to me.

I take it from her, my hands still shaking slightly with shock as I look over it, trying my hardest to not let Ava see how shaken up I am at the moment. The paper is creased and slightly torn from being in her bag all day, but across the top in thick scrawled writing is the word _biqfut,_beneath which there is a large brown circle with two stick arms and two stick legs, a slightly smaller circle on top with a wide grin and shaggy brown hair. _Bigfoot_I realise with a smile.

"It's great Ava, but why did you draw it for Kurt?" I ask as she takes my hand and begins walking.

"It's his brother," she says with a smile, swinging our joined hands a little between us.

"It's… it's Finn?" I ask, confusion sweeping through me as I wonder how on Earth she knows about Finn.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, kicking at a few leaves as we walk, "we was talking 'bout Christmas and he said he's going to 'hio to see his dad and a lady named… K-something and then Finn, 'n' he said Finn is real big, like bigfoot, but real nice so not scary like bigfoot's suppose to be…" she shrugs a little and smiles up at me.

I smile back half heartedly, the knowledge that Kurt's going home for Christmas stabbing me in the chest, adding to my already panic stricken state. And then I realise that he must have known for some time if he's spoken to Ava about it. _Why hasn't he told me?_ I think as I begin to steer us on a slightly different route.

"How- how about we go and see Kurt at work Av?" I ask, my voice breaking slightly as I try and work out what I'm going to say, how I'm going to apologise, how I'm going to show him how sorry I am for being an awful boyfriend.

"Okay," she smiles widely.

"What- has Kurt said anything else about Christmas?" I find myself asking after a few minutes silence, not sure whether I want to hear the answer just yet.

"Asked what we do at Christmas," she replies.

I raise my eyebrows, "what did you tell him?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

She shrugs a little, glancing up and squinting into the sun, "I told him Santa comes round and brings us presents… _duh!_" she rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Anything else?"

"Nope," she smiles, her lips popping on the 'p' as I manoeuvre her around a large puddle.

I sigh, raising a hand to run through my hair, little jolts of dread stabbing through me every so often as I remember a particularly awful part of the argument we've just had, my stomach sick from the fear of losing him. Eventually we reach a main street and I hail a taxi, too impatient to go on the underground.

Once inside Kurt's building I make my way over to the main desk which is at chest height, noticing with disappointment that it's a man behind the desk today, not the woman who was here months ago when I last came.

I beg and plead and bargain with this man for about ten minutes and he downright refuses to let me up to Kurt's office. "Can't you just, eurgh… Can't you just ring him and tell him someone's here and really, _really_needs to see him?" I eventually ask in frustration, my elbows resting on the counter.

He raises an eyebrow sceptically before picking up the phone and pressing a few buttons beyond where I can see. He holds it to his ear and watches me with a tired expression, eyes flicking to Ava stood behind me briefly before settling back on my own. "Hello Mr. Hummel, there's a man at reception who wishes to speak to you," he says. I hear a muffled response and watch with confusion as the receptionists eye's sweep over me quickly. "He's erm…" his eyes lock on mine and straight away I realise Kurt's asking what his visitor _looks_like. '_Blonde'_I mouth at him, pressing my hands together in front of me as if praying, pleading with him to help me out.

He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly, "he's blonde," he tells Kurt and I feel as I'm flooded with gratitude towards him, I listen to another indistinguishable response before the man begins speaking again, "yes, he really is blonde, very tall, blue eyes," he stops speaking while Kurt replies. "No… there's no child with him," the man promises Kurt, glancing briefly at Ava before frowning at me. I mouth a '_thank you_' to which he rolls his eyes again and shrugs, smiling a little. There's a long silence as he listens to Kurt before eventually speaking, "Okay, will do, thank you Mr. Hummel."

"What's he say?" I ask desperately after he hangs up.

"He says, and I quote; 'I know it's you Blaine. Leave me alone, I'm busy having sex with other people.'"

I groan and slam my head against the desk, not caring that a few people turn and stare as I curse under my breath. Eventually I straighten up, thanking the receptionist who smiles sadly at me. I briefly glance towards the stairs leading to Kurt before turning and leaving the building, Ava confusedly following.

Friday 8th November 2019

Thursday was much the same. I went to his work with Ava again, nodding sadly to the receptionist before standing and staring resolutely at the stairs. I don't know what I was hoping to happen, there was no way I could get up there, and his phone was switched off so I couldn't even ring him.

But it was while stood staring longingly at the staircase, Ava's hand in mine while she stands confused and silent beside me, when George walks up behind me.

"Hey Blaine, you waiting for Kurt?" he asks with a smile, startling me slightly as he comes to stand beside me, eyes flicking between me and the staircase I'm stubbornly staring at.

"Erm, sort of…" I admit, chancing a look in his direction, unwilling to take my eyes away for too long in case Kurt walks down and I miss him.

"I'm pretty sure he's not in today," he says, and I can hear a hint of confusion in his voice as my heart sinks further into my stomach.

"Oh," I utter, biting my lip as my eyes fall to the floor, catching Ava's eye as she looks up at me, brow furrowed in bewilderment.

"Yeah… he came in this morning but left pretty soon. Said something about seeing a friend? I dunno…" he shrugs, "Is everything… okay?" he asks, moving to stand more directly in front of me, forcing me to look at him before I divert my attention to just over his shoulder, fighting to hold back tears of frustration. "He seemed kind of… quiet when he left," he adds, obviously trying to get a response from me.

But I just groan, running my free hand through my hair, avoiding his eyes as best I can while I speak, "yeah… everything's fine," I assure him, eyes locking briefly with his, just enough for me to see he doesn't believe me.

"Are you sure? I could-"

I cut him off, "No- I mean, yeah, I'm fine, everything's fine. I've er…" I swallow the lump in my throat, looking up at him again, "I've got to go… bye," I say quickly, desperate to get away, to get back outside where I can blame my tears on the harsh wind. I take a step back, dragging Ava with me gently as I raise a hand in farewell.

He returns the gesture somewhat halt heartedly, a look of concern creasing his face before I turn and leave the building, disappearing into the crowd.

After that I'd gone to his home, knocking gently and waiting expectantly for him to answer. But he didn't, so I let myself in, quickly scanning the apartment to find that he genuinely wasn't in. The rooms were empty, desolate and cold. So I left, standing lost on his front step, staring up and down the street, hoping that he'd turn the corner any minute and just forgive me.

But he didn't, and eventually Ava began to complain that she was hungry and her hands were cold and her legs were hurting. With no where else left to check I picked her up and bundled us both into a taxi and headed home. The rest of the evening I tried ringing him but his phone remained turned off, my mind raced with who this 'friend' was as I tried desperately to stop myself assuming the worst, until eventually I gave up and went to bed, promising myself I'd try harder to speak to him tomorrow.

But today is no different; I've been phoning him all day, the first time noticing with a stab of hope that his phone is actually _switched on._But that hope slowly dwindles as each time it just rings and rings until clicking over to voice mail. At first it was believable that maybe he genuinely doesn't have his phone on him, but it's reached the point now where I know the exact number of rings before voice mail, which is ten, which I realise means he's just out and out ignoring me.

So walking from Ava's school and towards my own I contemplate trying once more, _I've got nothing to lose by being persistent,_I think to myself, _I've probably already lost him,_I find myself adding as a fresh wave of panic washes over me, collecting in my gut and making me feel physically sick at the thought. Ignoring the spiralling sensation in my stomach I press his name for what feels like the hundredth time since our argument.

And as suspected it rings and rings, and like the last few times I count and count. Four… Five… Six… _We're sorry but the person you're calling is currently unavailable to take your call, please leave a message after the-_

I quickly hang up, the phone almost slipping from my hand as understanding sweeps through me. Now he's _actively_ ignoring my calls; he's actually _seeing_ my name flash up on his screen and pressing decline. This knowledge hurts more than I ever thought it could as I slip my phone back into my pocket in defeat, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth as I quickly hurry through the school gate and into the main building.

I just have time to dash into the staff room, grabbing a cup of mediocre coffee before making for my first lesson, that forced answer phone message playing like a loop in my head, mingling with his 'I can't do this'. I slump into the chair behind my desk, closing my eyes as I run my hands through my hair, no doubt ruining it but caring for nothing but the man I love. I open my eyes with a stifled groan as students begin to file in, struggling I push the image of Kurt to the back of my mind; until lunch at least.

But as the day stretches on so does Kurt's silence. He ignores all my calls until my final lesson when I feel my phone vibrate against my thigh. Surreptitiously I slide it from my pocket with shaking hands, my heart jolting when I see Kurt's name upon the screen, breath stuttering as I scan the classroom, but everyone is distracted. I press the message, a lump in my throat;

_Stop calling me. It's really annoying._

My chest lurches as my heart skips a beat and I feel as vomit threatens to rise in my throat. I hold it down; taking a long swig of my drink as I reread those few words. I hadn't tried texting him, seeing it as the cowards way out, but, if this is the only way to get a response… I quickly type out a reply with one hand beneath my desk;

_I need to talk to you. I'm so sorry Kurt, I was an idiot and selfish and blind. I'm sorry and I love you. I'm begging you, please talk to me? xxx_

I press send before I can regret it, jumping in my seat when the bell rings to signal the end of the day, a small gasp escaping my lips. A few students shoot me quizzical looks as they gather their things, stuffing papers into their bags. Some shout a farewell to me but I'm not listening, all my attention focused on the phone resting on my lap, waiting and hoping for a small vibration. When it comes I almost drop the phone in my haste to open the message;

_No._

I stare at that one word for a moment before pressing to call him, making sure beforehand that the class is now empty. I cross my fingers beneath my desk and close my eyes, counting the rings. It reaches nine before he answers, my eyes shooting open in shock, heart breaking with the sound of his voice.

"I said to stop fucking ringing me Blaine. What part of that don't you understand?" His voice is hurried and angry but still beautiful and I revel in the fact he's finally speaking to me.

"I know but I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Kurt, please forgive me. I- I was selfish and awful and I know that now and I need to see you Kurt, I need you to f-forgive me," I begin to stutter, raising a hand to cover my mouth, stopping my ramblings as I hear him take a breath to speak.

"You can't see me," he says simply, and I feel tears begin to well in my eyes.

"W-why? I can be at yours in t-ten minutes. I just- I need to tell you in person… I need t-to show-"

"I'm not in London," he speaks over me, voice surprisingly calm.

"You- you're not in London?" I ask, my eyebrows pulling together in confusion. I glance at my watch, realising with a moment of relief that it's Ava's Friday round Molly's so I don't need to rush and pick her up.

"I…" I hear him sigh, "I'm in Edinburgh," he says, although it sounds more like he's admitting to something he shouldn't have done.

"E-Edinburgh?" I ask in a whisper, "w-why?"

"I'm staying with a friend I just- I had to get out of London," he responds evenly, his voice betraying no emotions.

"A- a friend?" I ask, my hand tightening around my phone as I once again fight to not assume the worst.

"Yeah, but don't worry, we're not fucking; he's straight," He tells me hollowly, and I hate the fact that he feels the need to reassure me, and even more so the fact that my first thought was that he's cheating on me with this friend.

"I- I didn't eve-" I begin to lie, but he catches me.

"Yes you did, don't even try and deny it Blaine," he says, voice cutting and emotionless.

I quickly change the subject, "why did you have to get out of London?"

"To get away from you," he replies without a second's hesitation, and I feel as the Earth falls from below my feet and my heart stops completely.

"Oh," I mutter, not having prepared myself for that.

I hear him sigh tiredly before speaking again, "I'm coming home Sunday," I briefly wonder whether by home he means his house, or to me? "So… we'll talk Sunday night," he says, and it's not a question.

I nod feebly into my empty classroom, "Okay," fighting to not let him know that tears are welling in my eyes and that I'm struggling to breath.

There's silence and I wonder whether he wants to say something more, but he doesn't, finishing with a sigh, "bye Blaine,"

"Bye Kurt, I- I love you," I stammer, blinking back tears as I wait for him to reply.

"I know," is all he says before hanging up. I close my eyes in defeat, unable to hold back tears any longer as they fall silently down my cheeks. Taking a deep breath through my nose I place my phone on the table and hold back a scream. I've ruined everything. I've actually ruined the best thing which has ever happened to me; _twice._

I fist my hands through my hair aggressively before slumping forward on my desk, eyes squeezed shut as I re live the initial argument in my head for the millionth time, re wording and re phrasing everything I said. Re living every mistake I've made over the past few weeks.

"Hey Blaine, everything okay?" A voice asks from the doorway. I recognise it straight away, smiling feebly and wiping at my eyes I turn to face Grace Atkins, a fellow English teacher who I consider to be one of my good friends at work. Her blonde hair is tied back in a loose plait, a pleasant, if not somewhat concerned, smile curls her lips as she steps towards me.

"I- yeah, everything's fine," I lie to her, rubbing at my face as she walks into the room.

"Blaine," she says as she leans back against one of the tables, "I'm not blind. I can see everything's not fine,"

"It's nothing," I lie again, not used to spilling my emotions, busying myself by shoving books and paper into my bag. But she just raises an eyebrow slowly, disbelief evident in her expression. "Okay fine," I sigh in defeat, my hands knotting together atop my desk as I look towards my discarded phone again, his lack of 'I love you too' cutting me through the chest "Me and Kurt had a massive fight," I admit to her, glancing up in time to see her smile be replaced with a frown.

"Define 'massive'"

"I've just, not been the best boyfriend these past few weeks and Wednesday I basically accused him of cheating on me. And now he's- he's gone off to Scotland to stay with a 'friend' and to 'get away from me', whatever that means," I tell her, the dull thrumming of a headache beginning to build behind my eyes, that mingling with the raw ache in my heart and the sickness in my stomach making for quite an array of pain.

"What happened? Do you honestly think he would cheat on you?" she asks, and I can hear concern in her voice, mingling with her underlying need to help people.

I instantly shake my head, "No- no of course not, I was just- I was really angry and I- I wasn't thinking…" I say feebly before quickly explaining the last few weeks to her and briefly describing our argument. She doesn't interrupt as I speak, keeping my eyes focused on the table in front of me, fingers absently tracing the patterns of the wood.

When I finish I take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing as I feel a fraction of worry and stress and fear ebb from my body, just having spoken to someone about what's happened making me feel the smallest bit better. A few seconds of silence pass, and when she doesn't speak I look up at her. But she's looking away, eyes focused on the window, face bright in the low sunlight, lost in thought. "What- what should I do?" I ask eventually, desperate for help.

Slowly she turns to face me, sighing deeply as she flattens the folds of her skirt on her lap. "First of all," she begins, eyes locking on mine with the determination of a woman on a mission, "You need to surprise him. He obviously feels like he's been making so much effort while you've maybe not been, so… you need to make an effort, go all out. And make it clear that you _do_trust him, completely and fully and that what you said was just a slip of the tongue. You've got to show him that you _are _willing to make an effort, show him that he's _worth_the effort, which, judging by how you've gushed about him for months he no doubt is."

There's a small smile playing on her lips and I'm unable to hold back the blush which works up my cheeks at her words, but I nod, "he is," I assure her, "he's means the world to me," I admit, "he _is_my world," I whisper under my breath, returning my attention to the swirls and lines of my desk.

"So make _him_see that," she says in response, sliding silently off the desk and walking towards me.

I grin up at her as she rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "thanks," I mutter, leaning to the side to rest my cheek against her knuckles.

"No problem," she assures me, "let me know what happens, yeah?" she asks as she walks towards the door, leaning against the frame as I turn to face her.

"Of course," I smile at her before she disappears down the corridor, one hand hurriedly wiping tears from my eyes as I stand.

Sunday 10th November 2019

**Kurt**

Glancing into the front window one last time I slide the key into the lock, turning it and pushing gently with one hand. It inches open and I slide my foot into the gap, re adjusting my bag on one shoulder, grip tightening around the cardboard box held against one hip. I turn and press my back to the door, forcing it open as I step over the threshold, instinctively glancing down the hall and into the kitchen, listening for the sound of Blaine or Ava.

But there's silence. I breathe a sigh of relief as I allow the door to fall shut behind me before swiftly crossing the hall and into the kitchen. The box falls onto the table with a light thump. I flex my arm slightly, a dull ache having built up from the awkward angle I'd been holding it before I push it into the centre of the table, not wanting it to fall of the edge.

My eyes swiftly roam over the room, looking for any differences, but there aren't any. Why would there be? I glance at the time on my phone, realising that Blaine and Ava will be home any minute from Ava's gymnastics class. I drop my bag from my shoulder, planting it on the table beside the box as I wait, resisting the urge to leave and have this talk over the phone.

While I wait I think about these last few days without Blaine. I think about our argument, the hurt I'd felt because of his words. I think about our conversation on Friday and the fear evident in his voice when he realised I wasn't in London but with someone else hundreds of miles away. I think about what I'm going to say when he gets home and I wonder what he's going to say. I wonder whether he'll ever fully trust me and I wonder whether that doubt is something I can live with.

The sound of a key in the lock brings me crashing back to reality as I realise it's happening, he's home and I can't run away from the inevitability of this conversation any longer. I wonder briefly whether he'll mind me having used my key, but I figure it's too late now as the door creaks open.

And for a millisecond the world seems suspended, my heart beginning to beat faster as Ava appears from behind the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, head turned to look up at Blaine. But then time speeds up and stepping from behind the door is a teenage girl, 18 at the most, short brown hair sticking up on top of her head, grey eyes trained on Ava as she lets the door fall closed behind her before looking up.

Her eyes immediately fall on me, stood stock still in the kitchen doorway, her eyes widening in horror as she no doubt wonder who I am, but then luckily Ava turns, her eye's falling on me and a wide smile erupting over her face, a giggle tumbling from her lips as she runs towards me. "Kurty," she calls out as she runs. I lift her into my arms, smiling in return although it doesn't reach my eyes.

"Oh thank God," I hear a voice sigh, glancing up I notice the young girl is leant against the banister of the stairs, a hand held over her heart, "you're Kurt?" she eventually says.

"I- yeah," I admit, unable to resist a small laugh as she dramatically shakes her head.

"I thought you were a burglar," She laughs a little as she straightens up, running a hand through her short hair, colour beginning to return to her face, "I was trying to remember the self defence classes I took a couple years ago," she says as she shakes her head, walking towards me. "I'm Louise, Av's babysitter," she says with a genuine smile.

"You- you know about me?" I ask, shock evident in my voice.

"Of course, Blaine hardly shuts up about you," she teases slightly.

"He doesn't?" I find myself asking.

"Nah," she mumbles, working to peel Ava's coat from her back, "it's 'Kurt said this today…' 'You'll never guess what Kurt did earlier…' 'Kurt wore the tightest jeans tonight…'," she rocks her head from side to side as she speaks in a slightly deeper voice, laughing a little as she watches me blush, "I'm just like, 'that's great Blaine, but I want to go home now,'" she laughs again, a high pitched infectious laugh which makes my heart soar a little at her words.

And I can't help but laugh back, ducking my head to hide my blush. Ava begins to wriggle in my arms and I slowly lower her to the floor, watching with a smile as she sits down and begins to undo the Velcro of her shoes.

"He really talks about me?"

"Like, _all the time_," she says, rolling her eyes a little as she pulls a plastic cup from the cupboard and fills it with orange juice from the fridge, handing it to Ava who clambers onto one of the dining chairs, standing on it before wrapping a tiny arm around my waist, head resting against my ribs.

I'm unable to resist the smile which curls my lip as Louise's words sink in, my hand instinctively curling protectively around Ava. "Where is he anyway?" I ask, looking up expectantly at Louise.

But she just shrugs, "No idea, he just rang and asked if I could pick Av up and look after her for the afternoon," she shrugs again,

I nod, "Oh, right," trying to stop myself wondering where he is, or who he's with, or what he's doing. "I should go," I finally say, leaning to press a kiss to Ava's forehead before lifting her and placing her back on the floor, very aware that she could fall from the chair.

"You mean you're not going to wait for him?" Louise asks, and I can hear a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Erm, no… I've got loadsa stuff to do, I'll just erm…" I trail off, nodding towards the door. "Oh," I remember the box, and turning back I point to it as I grab my bag, "will you tell him I dropped those off, it's just a few clothes of Ava's that he asked me to take up or fix for her," I explain.

She nods, "of course," she smiles as I wander down the hall towards the door, "It was nice to meet you," she calls after me as I pull the door open.

"Yeah," I smile as I turn back, "you too," I reply before pulling the door shut, sighing in relief as I quickly descend the few steps to his house, heading in the direction of the nearest underground, a head ache fast approaching as I try and work out where Blaine is.


	33. Chapter XXXIII

Sunday 10th November 2019 (continued)

**Kurt**

Walking towards home I keep my face down, head bowed to the wind, hands deep in my pockets as I turn onto my street. Glancing up as I near my house I notice something stuck to my door; a piece of paper fluttering in the wind. I walk faster, and it's not until I turn to ascend the few steps that I notice a deep purple tulip on the top step. My eyebrows shoot up in shock as my heart leaps into my throat. I lean down and pick it up before turning my attention to my door. Paper has been stuck to it, and as it flickers in the wind I can see two words scrawled in black ink; '_I'm sorry'_it reads. I tear it from the door to more closely examine it, turning it in my hand to check the back. But there's nothing else, just those two words.

Swallowing the lump in my throat I stuff the note into my pocket and fish my keys from my bag, quickly unlocking the door, eyes still trained on the flower in my hand I slide in, turning on the threshold, eyes scanning the street outside fleetingly before pressing the door firmly closed. I sigh heavily as I turn around, running a hand roughly through my hair I lift my head, gasping as my eyes widen at the sight in front of me.

The hallway is cluttered with tulips, all in various colours; multiple shades of red and pink, violets fading to pale purples, bright yellows and creamy whites. My jaw drops open in shock, taking in easily over a dozen flowers; some arranged in vases, balancing on a small table while others stand alone, the stems cut short, placed in tall glasses, a couple of inches of water at the bottom, lining the floor either side of the hall leading to the living room. And only after a moment of staring in shock do I realise that there are pieces of paper attached to each vase or glass; multiple pieces of paper in fact.

I start towards the first vase, which at a quick count holds eight red and yellow tulips. And taped to the glass are eight pieces of ripped paper, all bunched behind one another forming a frayed pile against the glass. I breath out heavily through my nose, fighting a smile with my determination to stay mad at Blaine as I gently remove each piece of paper, careful to keep them in order before unfolding the first one to read the familiar writing;

_I love that your favourite flowers are tulips_

I bite my lip slightly, my eyes falling closed as I struggle to repress a grin, feeling as my stomach flips and butterflies attempt take flight within me. I place that note flat on the table to read the second one;

_I love that you close your eyes when you smile sometimes_

I'm unable to control the laugh which tumbles from my chest, cheeks starting to ache with how hard I'm trying not to smile, hurriedly unfolding the third piece;

_I love those little crinkles in the corners of your eyes when you smile extra wide_

I shake my head and struggle to remember why I'm angry at him. Closing my eyes I bury my face in the papers, listening to them crinkle and crunch as I laugh almost silently. I then briefly look over the flowers on the floor, all of them with a piece of paper attached to the glass they're in. Turning my attention back to the paper in my hand I quickly read through the remaining five notes;

_I love the sound of your laugh_

_I love the sound of your voice_

_I love listening to you sing_

_I love that look of determination you get when you sing_

_I love how determined you are at everything you do_

It feels like the butterflies in my stomach have broke free of their cage and flown away, taking me with them as they soar, flying lighter-than-air higher and higher, and I only feel a little foolish when I check to see if my feet are still planted firmly on the floor.

I quickly move onto the next collection, a slightly smaller vase holding five deep purple tulips, five pieces of paper taped around the rim, seeming to be in no particular order as I gently remove them;

_I love those sideways glances you sometimes send my way_

_I love how cute you look when you yawn_

_I love your tight jeans_

_I love the smell of your bed_

_I love the weight of your body on mine_

Happiness expands like a balloon inside me despite my best efforts to stop it, making my fingertips tingle and my heart pound slightly faster. Still beaming I allow my eyes to quickly count the tulips lining either side of the floor, all in mismatched glasses. There are seven in total, four lining from my bedroom door to the living room, another three the opposite side leading from the bathroom door, and just as I lean down to pick one up I notice the bathroom door is open.

Bright colours shine in the corner of my eye, straightening up I step into the bathroom, flicking the light on as I do so. And I'm unable to suppress a loud, shocked laugh as I see the sink, filled with water, a dozen tulips bowing over the edge of the porcelain, a dozen torn bits of paper taped around the sink and to the mirror above it. I pull them down and read them one by one, cheeks beginning to ache as I no longer hold back my smile;

_I love the smell of your shampoo_

_I love how pink you are when you get out the shower_

_I love tasting your toothpaste in your mouth when you've just brushed your teeth_

_I love that cream you cover yourself in which smells like coconuts_

_I love how soft your skin is_

_I love that you don't care that I've snuck a spare toothbrush in next to yours_

_I love when you let me wash your hair_

_I love that your shower is big enough for both of us_

_I love watching you style your hair_

_I love when I go home and I can still smell you on my clothes and my skin and my hair_

_I love sharing a bath with you_

_I love that you replace my razors when they get blunt_

Beaming I pull the plug from the sink and delicately scoop the flowers up, wrapping a small towel around their stems to prevent them dripping everywhere as I carry them into the kitchen. I'm staring down at them as I walk, touching my fingertip to a delicate petal as I smile widely. I glance up as I enter the room, my mouth dropping open once again in shock, "Oh my god!" I whisper, eyes wide and disbelieving as I take in the scene in front of me.

Even more tulips, in vases, in glasses, in cups, lying on top of the TV, balanced atop a picture frame, five laying the length of the window sill, bright startling white in the dim, autumn sun. My free hand rises automatically to cover my mouth as tears well in my eyes, my heart beginning to hammer against my chest, mind absolutely blank but for shock and disbelief and overwhelming floods of love. Near to each flower is a scrap of paper. I hurriedly drop the ones in my arm onto the kitchen counter, noticing that the counter is also lined with even more flowers, and then out of the corner of my eye I see a large vase on the dining table, over flowing with bright yellow and violet tulips, papers stuck around the entire circumference of the table.

Gasping I dart towards it and frantically rip the first piece of paper free, turning it over I hurriedly read the words;

_I love how you say my name_

The next one;

_I love that you bite the tip of your thumb when you're nervous_

The next one;

_I love when you squeeze my knee under the table_

I'm unable to control as small gasps escape my lip with each scrap of paper I tear off and read as I hurriedly make my way around the table, thick tears welling in my eyes, getting increasingly closer to falling;

_I love your palms_

_I love that funny little sound you make in the back of your throat when I annoy you_

_I love how amazing you are with Ava_

_I love how snarky and witty and cutting you can be, especially when it's not aimed at me_

_I love how long your eyelashes are_

_I love when I can feel your heart beat against my chest, or my back, or beneath my ear_

_I love the way your twirl your fork when you eat spaghetti_

_I love that you were my first; for everything that matters_

_I love your grey-green-blue eyes_

_I love seeing you wearing my clothes_

_I love watching you come undone_

I'm just over half way round the table when there is a knock at the door. I stand swiftly, glancing towards it, momentarily confused before I walk over to it, noticing as I walk by that there are even more flowers in my bedroom, scattered over my bed, balanced precariously on a stack of magazines, surrounding my mirror. I make a strange, strangled moan as I walk by the door, wanting nothing more than to run in there and read all the notes and fall further and even more madly in love with Blaine.

Without thinking to check who it is I swing the door open, one hand full of papers which I've just read, the other curled around the doorframe as I pull it open. But there's no one there, I glance up and down the street frowning, I'm just about to shut the door when my attention catches on something on the bottom step leading up to my front door; another tulip, white and unblemished, a piece of paper held beneath the head of the flower.

I quickly dash down the steps, grabbing it before it gets blown away by the wind, unfolding it with shaking hands, eyes raking over the now achingly recognisable hand writing;

_I bought 238 tulips to represent 238 things I love about you. But that isn't enough; the number of things I love about you is infinite, uncountable, never ending. I love every single thing about you, from the tiny, inconceivable things to the massive, monumental character defining things._

_I'm sorry I was a jerk; I trust you with my whole heart. I will do absolutely anything to make it up to you. You're my world Kurt, I love you._

Tears fall thick and heavy down my cheeks as I reread the note, the words sinking into my mind and filtering into my heart, rushing through my blood as I hurriedly search the street for Blaine.

And then suddenly out of no where there he is; a small, unsure smile on his lips, stood at the end of the street through a small crowd of people, just staring at me, fear evident in the way he stands; curled up on himself, shoulders tensed, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

"Blaine," I gasp his name through a sob, turning and stepping towards him. And he does the same, uncertainly at first before he begins to walk properly, both of us breaking into a run. People turn to look at the noise but then we slam into each other, all the breath leaving my lungs with the force of the hit as I wind my arms around his neck. I feel as his hands grasp my waist briefly, holding me harder than I ever remember. Then they release me and wind tightly around me, dragging me to him, holding us flush against one another in the middle of a busy street. It takes all of a second for us to be wrapped so tight that it's difficult to breathe, our minds filled with each others scent and our nerves screaming at the much needed contact and I hear as a sob wracks through his body which trembles against me.

"Oh god Kurt, I'm s-so sorry," He sobs into my neck, nails digging into my back through my clothes. "Please d-don't end this, I-I'll try harder, p-please," he begs into my skin, arms tightening further as I try to pull back to looks at him.

"Blaine I- Blaine…?" I wind my arms from around his neck and press my hands flat against his sternum, trying to gently push him back so I can look at him properly but he just clings to me even harder. "I'm not- not ending this, I'm not," I promise, shocked by his tears. Admittedly I was indescribably angry with him, ignoring his calls, avoiding him, shocked at what he said, but at no point have I even _considered_breaking up with him.

But he doesn't reply, he just shakes his head and continues to sob into my shoulder.

I frown, "Blaine I- I don't know why- I'm not breaking up with you," I try to reassure him, cupping his tear stained cheeks and tilting his face to look at me. When he does it's slow and untrusting, eyes red-rimmed and blood shot, lashes clinging together with tears. "Come on," I say, scared that he's about to have a breakdown in the middle of the street.

He continues to stare at me as if in disbelief as I take hold of one of his hands in both of mine, slowly walking him back towards home. He follows slowly, hand shaking in mine, grip painfully tight. He allows me to push him in front of me, slowly walking through my door, turning to look nervously at me over his shoulder, eyes frightened and entire body shaking slightly.

I walk him into the bed room, fearing he won't make it the length of the hall and living room to the sofa. I guide him to sit on the foot of the bed and smile reassuringly as I kneel down in front of him, weaving our hands together atop his knees as he continues to stare at me with wide, apprehensive eyes, breath halting and sporadic as his chest quivers ever so slightly in front of him.

"Now…" I begin, "Why are you crying so much Blaine?" I ask directly, forcing him to look at me with one hand resting against his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone, fingers splayed behind his ear.

I wait patiently as he swallows the lump in his throat, his free hand rising to cling to my forearm, eyes briefly stuttering closed beneath my touch. He dampens his lips slightly before he speaks stutteringly, "well you- you said you'd wanted t-to get away from me and- and L-Louise r-rang me," he takes a deep breath through his nose, eyes falling open, blood shot and sad as they lock on mine. "She- she said you'd b-been round," he explains, "said you'd dropped off a box of clothes, I-" he gasps as his chest shudders, body inching forward on the bed, closer to me as his face burrows slightly into my palm, "I figured you were d-dropping off-" he takes another body shudderingly deep breath, his eyes falling exhaustedly closed again while I wait, his pulse thrumming against my finger pressed to his neck, "off my clothes and stuff which had ended up here, I- I thought it was the- the- end."

At that moment he releases my hand and my arm and buries his face into his hands, slumping over his knees as another wave of sobs shake his body. "Oh Blaine," I sigh, pushing my way between his knees, pulling his hands from his face and lacing them with my own, forcing him to look up. When he does I feel my heart break a little. "They were Ava's clothes," I explain, seeing confusion crease his brow I continue, "the dresses you asked me to take up a couple of weeks ago… and those few things which buttons and stuff had came off… I finished them before I left and- and I went into work when I got home and then came by to talk to you… I- I figured I might as well bring them along as well. All your stuffs still here," I tell him, wiping the tears from under his eyes with my thumbs.

I watch as his face changes from anguish to realisation and finally to relief, his shoulders slumping, grip on my hands relaxing as his eyes fall shut with a tired sigh. I lean forward an inch, lips hovering near his before I press forward, kissing him gently, pulling back when I feel his wet eyelashes flicker open against my cheek.

His eyes blink open as he stares at me with uncertainty, "so you're not…" he trails off as I shake my head.

"Never," I assure him, leaning to rest our foreheads together.

"Oh thank God," he breaths, the words tickling my lips as I smile. Silence engulfs us for a while as his breathing slows back to normal, leg tightening slightly either side of me as he breathes deeply, his eyes closed, eyelashes flickering minutely. Eventually he blinks open and looks at me with tired, red, smiling eyes. "I'm so sorry though," he repeats, "about… the fight and, how I've been behaving these past few weeks, and what I said… I wasn't thinking Kurt, I just-"

"Shhh sh sh," I rush to quieten him, shaking my head, "I overreacted, it's no big deal, it's… it's inevitable that _that's_what's going to be brought up in arguments,"

He opens his mouth to protest, "but it shouldn't be… don't make excuses for me Kurt. There is no excuse for what I said…" he shakes his head, "it was a low blow and completely unfounded and I- I trust you so completely and emphatically," he rushes to add.

I watch with a genuine smile as he speaks, saying everything I need him to. "Anyway…" I begin, needing to change the subject, needing to see him smiling, "I think this more than makes up for it," I tell him, motioning with my hands at the flowers decorating my bedroom. He laughs shyly, cheeks turning pink as I lean forward to press a kiss to his exposed wrist, fleetingly feeling his pulse against my lips before I look up at him. "I can't even imagine how long this took, or how much they all cost," I shake my head disbelievingly.

"You're more than worth every second it took and every penny it cost," he tells me with a half smile, skin still somewhat paler than usual from crying.

"How did you even…?" I begin, "and why 238?" I add, watching with delight as his grin widens, arms curling around me and pulling me up against him, my head resting against his chest from where I'm still kneeling between his legs.

"I- I had to do _something_to show you how much I- I love you… so I went to a few florists and raided them of tulips, taking everything they had. Argued with a few taxi drivers but managed to get them here. I wrote the notes yesterday," his smile grows gradually wider as he tells me the story, leaning forward to partially bury his face into my hair, "then- then Louise rang when I'd just finished."

"I… I didn't know you were already home, London I mean, I thought- I thought you were getting home in the evening but, she rang and said you'd been round and said you'd just left a box there for me and was heading home if I wanted to catch you. I thought you'd brought all my stuff back and just… fled I guess," he chuckles somewhat hollowly into my hair as he drags me an inch closer, "I just, disappeared up the street, I saw you read the first note and come in and then I just… hid round the corner and tried to sort my head out. In the end I figured, I've gone this far so I might as well give you the final flower and note. Even if-" I hear him swallow and I pull back to look into his eyes, "even if it had been the end I still wanted you to know how much I absolutely adore you."

I smile at him, taking in his small shrug and somewhat embarrassed expression, probably trying to make out that it's no big deal. But it is. "This is the single most romantic thing anyone has _ever_done for me," I tell him truthfully, watching as he rolls his eyes a little, "I'm serious Blaine, nothing even comes _close_to this, I- It's unbelievable," I explain, glancing at the flowers which still adorn almost every surface of the room we're sat in.

"I just… I wanted you to know how much- how much I love you and how much you mean to me and that I- I know how lucky I am to be with you, after everything," he says, his voice growing increasingly shakier as he runs a hand messily through his hair.

"Well… I can't think of anything which could possibly top this," I tell him, laughing as I struggle to hold back another swell of tears. And once again we fall into silence, each of us gradually closing the gap, lips a hairs breadth apart as I feel his breath ghost across my skin and I inhale. I drown in the smell of his cologne and shampoo and _him,_scents I've never really appreciated until days and miles apart. The slowly our lips graze softly, taking both our breath away before we press slightly harder together, wanting to taste each other on our lips long after we pull away.

But eventually we have to, our lungs begging to air as I inch back, smiling in response to his content sigh, watching as his eyes remain closed. And as I kneel between his legs, his hands gripping my ribs, his body warm against mine and for the first time in weeks I feel safe and whole and completely loved.

"Can I- would you…" he trails off, words soft against my skin.

"What?" I ask, leaning back an inch to stare into his eyes.

"Would you lie with me?" he asks in a whisper, eyes still glazed with tears.

I smile slowly and stand, his eyes never leaving mine as he tilts his head to stare up at me, hands sliding from my ribs to rest on my hips. I slip my shoes off, shrugging my jacket from my shoulders before leaning down to kiss him gently, feeling as he momentarily tenses and then relaxes beneath my touch. He allows me to slowly push him back, his elbows digging into the mattress as he steadies himself. I crawl onto the bed, leaning over him, continuing to kiss him as he kicks his shoes off. He then shuffles further up the bed, hands fisting the front of my shirt as he drags me with him.

I feel his eyelashes wet against my cheek and pull back, smiling languorously at him beneath me before falling next to him, winding my arms tight around him I pull his body against mine, shivering as he sighs into my neck, his chest shuddering slightly.

"Kurt, I really am sorry, I-"

"Shhh shh shhh," I hum against his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I know, just sleep,"

"I don't want to sleep," he whispers, burying his face into my neck.

"Why not?" I ask, smiling as his legs tangle familiarly and naturally around my own.

"I've missed you so much, I don't want to sleep through what time we get together,"

I laugh a little, "just sleep Blaine, I'm not going anywhere," I promise him, "here, let me…" I trail off, leaning up to push the duvet beneath us down. He helps, smiling at me out of the corner of his eyes before I drag it over us, feeling him shiver under the cold fabric before pressing a kiss to my collar bone, finger toying with the collar of my shirt.

"Can I…?" he trails off, fingers lingering on the top button. I look down at his hand before searching his eyes for the end of that question.

"What?" I find myself asking.

"I- I want to feel your skin," he whispers, eye's nervously searching mine, tear tracks still visible on his cheeks as I smile.

I just smile in response, moving my hands from around him to rest them atop his, gently undoing the first button. I watch as he swallows, smiling minutely before slowly working his way down my chest while I watch him with adoring eyes. He finally reaches the bottom and looks up at me questioningly before pushing it from my shoulders. He moves forward, pressing his nose into the base of my neck, inhaling deeply before kissing the skin there. "God, I've missed you so much" he sighs against me.

Then slowly we undress one another, but it isn't sexual. It isn't a means to an end. It _is_the end. Because right now, at this moment, all we both need is to just _feel_each others body beside us, warm and solid and real. So when all our clothes have been shed we move towards each other, simultaneously sighing as our arms close around the familiar body, legs knotting together, eyes closing and bodies melting with the warmth. Neither of us notice when a few tulips fall soundlessly to the floor, followed by drifting notes of love.

I hadn't realised how much I'd missed him until now. Not until I can feel his breath against my skin and smell his hair beneath my nose. I glance down at him, already half asleep against me, and I realise I've forgiven him. Completely and utterly forgiven him. Looking back I know now that what he said was just said in anger and in fear, and I also know that my reaction was fuelled by exhaustion and frustration.

We were both just tired and angry and in love. And people become foolish when in love.

**Blaine**

When I wake up the first thing I notice is it's dark. Completely black but for a small glow around the window, the second thing I notice is that I'm not in my own bed, and the third thing I notice is a wonderfully warm body against me, arm around my waist, one leg pressed between my own.

I sit up slightly and turn to check the time; 11.29 it reads, and with a wave of panic I remember Ava.I bolt upright, legs swinging off the bed, eyes searching for clothing before a strong arm curls around me and drags me back, a welcome voice low behind me, "She's fine Blaine, I got her," he tells me reassuringly as I turn to face him.

He's wide awake, eyes just visible as they gleam against startlingly pale skin. "You… huh?" I mumble, brain still half asleep.

"Ava… I got her, she's asleep in the spare room," he explains, pulling me back into a laying position, draping the duvet back over me as he snuggles closer, head resting against my shoulder as I lie on my back.

"You… how long have I been asleep?" I ask in confusion, allowing my body to relax now I know Ava's safe.

"Ages," he replies, one hand running up and down my arm, making my skin tingle. "I went and got her, we had dinner, I made you some but you were out cold, bathed her and got her into bed by eight. No need to worry," he tells me with an evident smile, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "How do you feel?" he asks.

I turn to face him in confusion, "I- I feel fine, why?" I ask.

He shrugs and inches a little closer, legs warm against mine and I notice that he's now wearing pyjamas and that his skin smells of coconuts, hair slightly damp. I snuggle even closer, enjoying his shower fresh smell, "you looked pretty exhausted," he tells me.

"Yeah, I hadn't been sleeping well," I sigh. He looks up at me, eyelashes forming shadows against his brow bone.

"Me either," he eventually says in a whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss to my collarbone. I sigh beneath his touch and feel as my body becomes boneless and relaxed.

"Have you slept?" I ask, feeling bad for him having to look after Ava while I slept even though he's probably as exhausted as me.

He shakes his head, "No, just been watching you," he smiles slowly as he leans back briefly, eyes moving to look over my face before dipping to briefly glance over my exposed shoulders and chest, placing another kiss at the hollow of my neck. "You're so beautiful," he tells me gently with the slightest shake of his head, almost as if in disbelief as a hand lifts to run lazily through my hair, sweeping it back from my face and making my skin goosebump under his touch. "Sometimes I forget, and then I just look at you and you take my breath away,"

Suddenly self conscious I roll onto my side towards him and curl in on myself slightly, "I'm not," I mutter into the inch gap between our bare skin.

"Hey!" he chastises me, forcing me onto my back with a palm pressed flat against my sternum. He shuffles close to me, one leg rising slightly and settling on my own whilst his free hand glides up my chest, tangles in my hair and forces me to look at him, "Yes, you are," he tells me slowly, eyes darting between my own as if searching for any sign of protest from me. I look into his eyes and take in his expression. Serious and somewhat pensive as his hands loops around to cup my cheek, holding me in place, "So, _so_beautiful," he tells me with a minute shake of his head, the ghost of a smile lighting up his face as his thumb lifts to graze my lips. His skin is as soft as silk and I melt beneath his touch; his indescribable eyes are bright, sparkling with love and sincerity.

"Thank you," I whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his thumb still held against my lips.

He smiles wider, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to my shoulder, "You don't have to thank me Blaine," he responds, "I'm only telling the truth," he says before attaching his lips to my shoulder and slowly working his way along my collarbone.

"I think you might be somewhat biased though," I laugh for what feels like the first time in years, smiling as his lips work their way up one side of my neck and his free hand dips from my face, tracing down the other side of my neck before skimming down my chest, fingertips as light as feathers before coming to rest splayed, palm pressing heavy against my beating heart.

He softly kisses the crook beneath my ear before leaning up to look at me, his body now almost completely on top of me as with his other hand he holds himself steady. He grins somewhat shyly before resting his forehead against my own, breath warm against my lips, skin soft against my own. "Not at all," he says seriously, eyes locked on my own before he slowly closes the incomprehensibly small gap between our lips, a content sigh falling from his mouth into my own, a wave of desire coiling up my spine as he lowers himself on top of me, heavy and solid and wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly soft and warm and _real_.

"I love you _so_ much," he breathes against my lips before pulling up to look at me. "You are _so_ beautiful," he repeats, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to my lips, "and wonderful…" he mutters as he kisses with slightly more urgency, "and perfect…" my arms tighten around him in a weak attempt to prevent him pulling away, "and smart…" lips pressing to the corner of my mouth, "and handsome…" a kiss to my cheek, "and fun," the corner of my eye, "and sexy," voice deep as the hand pressed against my heart contracts, nails digging into flesh as his lips drop quickly to kiss my jaw, "and adorable," he smiles as he kisses below my ear, "and gorgeous," three quick kisses down the column of my neck, my pulse humming against his lips, "and loving," lips touching my collarbone, "and beautiful," he repeats, hand dipping to curl around my ribs, "and-"

"You s-said beautiful twice," I manage to stammer, my heart rate increasing rapidly under his well placed kisses and compliments, cock beginning to harden beneath him as my eyes flicker open and closed. Catching fleeting glimpses of him pressed against me before my head rolls back slightly more with each kiss, eliciting small, inaudible moans as my arms tighten around him, pressing him against my skin hungrily between words.

"Shut up," he replies jokingly before his lips finally crash into my own, shutting me up as his tongue licks my lips open and slides against my own, one hand winding around my waist and lifting me slightly from the mattress, my body arching upwards as our chests press together and I feel his breathing begin to increase, small moans trembling from his chest.

I moan back, the feel of his weight above me making my hips roll upwards, intuitively searching for friction as his tongue dances against my own, breath mingling and noses bumping as my hands glide over the dips and curves of his body, grasping his ass, nail digging into his skin, sure to leave angry red marks before forcing him down on top of me. He groans, a deep, guttural, animalistic noise which goes straight to my cock, his lips leaving mine and my eyes stutter open just in time to see his spine bow inwards, pressing me harder into the mattress as his hair falls over his face, breathing becoming quicker as I hurriedly paint his skin with wet, hungry, frantic kisses. Along his hairline, down his neck, his collarbones, sternum, chest, shoulders.

And suddenly his hands are gone from my body and instead tangling in my hair, balling it into his fists as he drags my head roughly up to look at him; lips quivering slightly before he kisses me forcefully, curving further and further into me, eliciting louder and needier moans with each flick of his tongue and grind of his hips and tug at my hair until eventually he pulls back, my hands running recklessly over his naked flesh, feeling his body tremble above me.

We look at each other with hungry, wild, pleading eyes, lips parted and wet with each others saliva, the taste of one another mixed between us as sweat begins to form on quivering chests. Our minds blank but for the person in front of us, their skin pressed to our own, their body hot and familiar yet never endingly exciting and exhilarating and exquisite. "Can I…?" he whispers hesitantly, hand falling between my legs, fingers grazing my inner thigh.

I nod slowly, my legs spreading slightly, too scared to form words as he moves to kneel between my parted legs, kissing my raised knee as his fingers press forward slowly until they graze the tight ring of muscles. My body trembles and jerks upwards automatically as my hands blindly fumble towards the bedside table.

"Fuck Blaine," he laughs through a groan as he leans towards the draw, stretching over me, his body hovering an inch above mine, hand moving slowly to coil tight around my cock, "I love when you get like this," he tells me before slipping his tongue between my lips quickly as his hand begins to move in slow, torturous drags.

He catches my bottom lip between sharp teeth before grinning coquettishly and sitting back up, "L-like what?" I stutter, leaning up on my elbows, watching as he spreads lube over his fingers.

"When you just… when you _need_me. You just look so… _wrecked_," he tells me, looking at me with blown eyes as he lowers one hand between my parted legs, the other coming to rest beside my raised head as he slowly drapes himself over me, not quite touching but close enough to feel as waves of heat roll off his skin, "And so, _so_ beautiful," he finishes as I feel his finger slip slowly between my cheeks, tracing the rim of my hole before in one long, slow, slick movement he pushes two fingers completely in.

I gasp at the initial burn and then keen as he moves deeper in, my elbows slipping from beneath me as I fall against the bed, head thrown back in breathy ecstasy as my eyes stutter closed and my mouth hangs open. He takes advantage of this and kisses me deeply, tongue tickling my palate as for the millionth time in our short lives he takes my breath away, stealing it from my lungs as his fingers begin to move inside me. Pulling out to the very tip before dipping in and scissoring, stretching me before crooking them and hitting my prostate on every curve as he kisses messily down my neck.

"I'll a-always need you K-Kurt," I manage to stutter as his teeth scrape down my chest, sharp bites and soft kisses adorning my body, and before I have a chance to realise where his mouth is heading his lips are wrapped tight around my cock, sucking hard before dipping swiftly down. I gasp loudly, biting down on my bottom lip in a failed attempt to stifle the moans and groans and curses which are threatening to tumble from within me, body beginning to writhe as my senses are overloaded.

I feel him smile, tongue lapping up the underside of my cock as I thrust shamelessly up, desperate for the wetness and warmth and softness of his lips and tongue and hollowed cheeks, his fingers deep inside me, grazing slowly over my prostrate, and then as if hit my a tsunami I can't take it anymore. I need the teasing to stop and I just need _him_ right now, as soon as possible, I need him inside me and connected to me and I need him to love me.

Instantly my hands tangle in his hair, fumbling and shaking as I pull him off. "Please Kurt," I gasp, "Please just… please…" I beg, a quivering hand closing around his wrist and pulling weakly.

"Hey, not so fast," he jokes, batting my hand away as he twists his fingers so suddenly against my prostate that my entire body literally quivers, a half scream mingling with a moan and falling from my mouth as my chest jerks with uneven, ragged, shallow breaths.

"I'm serious, please… I need- now," I continue to beg, leaning up enough to successfully pull his fingers out, pushing my hips forward while dragging his hips down, feeling the his cock rub against my thigh, that slight touch making me whine as I try to line him up.

"Woah, slow down, Blaine, you're not-"

"I don't care, Kurt, I'm begging," I whimper, my lips quivering as my chest continues to heave as I push further down the bed.

"No, it'll hurt so bad, just let me-" he reasons, moving to slip his fingers back into me.

"_No!_" I actually scream this time, jumping away from his fingers, hands shaking as I push myself hastily into a sitting position. He looks at me with lost, hurt eyes.

"Hey, hey it's okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he tells me, leaning forward with outstretched arms, wrapping them around me tightly as he pulls me against him, "I'm sorry, what do you want, I'll give you anything," he promises me.

"I want you," I whisper feebly into his neck as tears swell and fall from my eyes for the millionth time in the last few days, my arms clinging so tight to him that they shake slightly. He gently moves from kneeling to sitting before pulling me onto his lap.

"You have me Blaine…" he whispers back, kissing my shoulder which lies pressed just below his head. "Forever," he says between kisses, "forever and ever,"

"I just… I need you, I need you so bad," I whimper, hands tangling shakily in his hair as I pull back and look into his confused eyes. "When you… when you were so far away, and so angry at me, I was lost. So _so_lost. I- I- I'm just, I'm so scared of losing you," I admit, feeling pitiful and weak and embarrassed as my tears drip onto his chest.

"But I'm here Blaine. You didn't lose me, you're not lost. I'm here and I've got you and I love you," he tells me feverishly, running his hands reassuringly over my sides and back, kisses decorating my shoulder beneath his face.

"Love me," I whisper into his neck, feeling shamefully needy but far too desperate to care.

"Always," he nods, "always," I can see tears shining in his eyes as he moves to lay me back down.

I whine and cling tighter to him, shaking my head as I push against him, "Like this," I tell him, moving to straddle his hips, my knees coming to rest either side of his thighs as I kneel above him.

He nods, swallowing noticeably, "Okay," he says before effortlessly lifting me and manoeuvring us both around so that his back is against the head board. He smiles up at me, no doubt wondering why I am crying right now and shaking and trembling against him. I shamefully bury my head into his neck and try to apologise.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"You don't have to apologise; I love you Blaine, no matter what you- you do, or say, or think," he encourages me, running his hands up either side of my waist, "are you sure you-"

"Yes," I cut him off, leaning back to grab the lube and handing it too him. For a second our eyes lock as I have to look away because I'm so suddenly terrified of what he must be thinking. There is silence as he quickly spreads lube over the length of his cock before his hands come to rest delicately against my hips, hesitant as I turn to face him, my hands curling around to the nape of his neck as I lean forward cautiously. He takes a deep, slightly stuttering breath before closing the gap between us, kissing me softly as he gently lowers my hips. My eyes screw up tight, a silent cry of pain curling my lips as I feel him stretch me open, hands gripping his neck tight, nails digging into tender flesh as he slowly presses me completely on top of him, his lips never leaving my skin as he they dance light as feathers across my neck and shoulders and jaw.

He kisses every inch of my skin within reach, the rest being caressed by his hands as he waits for my harsh breathing to calm and my face to be free of pain. Eventually he feels as my muscles relax around him, he then slowly pushes his hips down while gently grasping mine and pulling up. I sigh in relief as I finally feel him moving inside of me, filling me both literally and metaphorically, pressing in all the right places.

And slowly the pain weakens and slips into pleasure as my breathing becomes faster, my moans become louder and my hips begin to move and roll in time with his thrusts, until eventually we're just a ball of skin and sweat and hands and tongues and moans and hips and kisses. All bundled together and writhing and trembling and shaking in one another's arms, my arms tightening around his neck as I pant into his skin, wet kisses adorning his shoulders while his hands grip me so tight it hurts, his head falling back against the headboard. I stare in amazement at his closed eyes, long eyelashes, sweat dripping down flushed skin, lips parted with hoarse breaths followed by moans and curses and indecipherable mutters. I feel tears well in my eyes again, and I can't explain why I'm crying but he's just so wonderfully perfect and beautiful and _mine_, that it physically hurts to imagine ever being without him again.

So I just cling to him tighter as tears rush down my cheeks and drop warm onto his skin, mingling with his sweat before falling down his spine and chest. Neither of us have spoken and yet neither of us needs to have done, both comfortable in the near silence of escalating moans and sighs of pleasure. And then suddenly his pace changes, speeding up, movements becoming deeper and more insistent, hitting my prostate harder every time, but not quite hard enough as I push myself up, almost completely off of him before slamming quickly down.

He gasps. Hands tightening around me as he keeps up this pace, his breathing becoming even more shallow, laced with a string of kisses and moans as his nails dig half moon indents into my skin, his teeth biting down hard on my shoulder as I groan and fuck myself down onto him, my legs aching under the strain as I continually grind down, and I begin to feel that unfurling, uncoiling, unrestrained ache building in my abdomen, rushing down my legs, tingling my toes as they curl against the bed sheets.

Then all of a sudden his hands are cupping my face and forcing me back to look at him, fingertips grazing my hairline as we both throw ourselves against each other, lips colliding hungrily as his hip bones bruise me and I feel him tremble beneath me.

"Blaine," he whispers my name between my lips as I groan and with one final, endless thrust my eyes rolls back, hands tighten, muscles clench, mind goes blank, body falling apart as I come over and over again, covering our joined chests as I feel him shake beneath me, my name still tumbling from his lips as he drives himself into me throughout his orgasm. I sigh as I feel the strangely satisfying wetness of his come inside me before I slump completely on top of him.

After a few moments of near silence he pushes me up, pulling out before allowing me to fall forward against him, exhausted and embarrassed as I curl into him.

He gently lays me down beside him before moving to hold me. His arms twining around me as he allows me to cry a few final silent tears, my eyes pressed closed, head resting against his shoulder as I shake slightly through my sobs. But eventually I calm enough for him to speak.

"Did… Did I hurt you?" he asks, and there's so many answers to that question that I take the cowards approach and just shake my head.

"Then why're you crying, baby what's wrong?" he asks me. I shake my head as I turn in his arms, my back now facing him as I shuffle away, far enough so I no longer feel his heat engulfing me.

"Blaine…" he whispers, his voice cracking around the syllable as I feel him shuffle forward, one hand tentatively moving to hold my arm.

"I-I'm being s-stupid," I stammer, curling my legs up against my chest.

"No you're not, just, tell me; what do you want me to do?" he asks lost, voice broken as he waits for instruction.

And there is only one thing I need right now, and that's him. "Hold me," I tell him, and he does, and as his arms wrap around me and his chests curves perfectly to the shape of my spine, I feel him sigh, a tired, exhausted sigh, but still content, and I wonder whether that's because he's back with me.

Monday 11th November 2019

When I wake up the next morning I'm shocked to find myself alone in Kurt's bed. Leaning up onto my elbows I listen for a moment, trying to hear the sound of voices, maybe the tv, the shower. But there's nothing but absolute silence. And then as if someone had read my mind I hear the door open and gently close again, whoever it is obviously wary of waking me.

In a moment of childishness I fall back onto the mattress, eyes closing, muscles relaxing, feigning sleep as I hear the bedroom door creak slightly. A moment later I feel the bed dip, and then a warm hand curving to fit my neck, tilting me round to face the body now laying flat beside me.

"I know you're awake," Kurt say's, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

And I'm unable to control myself as a wide grin spreads across my face, eyes opening to stare at the gorgeous man beside me. "How'd you know?"

"I know you Blaine, I can tell when you're fake sleeping," he teases, snuggling against me gently, craning his neck a few inches to kiss me lovingly.

"Wait," I say after a moment. He pulls back to stare at me, a question in his eyes.

"It's Monday," I say.

He nods slowly, "It is,"

I feel my heart sink, "What time is it?"

"It is… 9.13," he says, leaning to look at the clock across from him.

I groan and move to stand up, but he just drags me back down, forcing my head against his chest, my skin resting against his clothes. "Stop worrying," he tells me before kissing my hair, "I've taken her school,"

I stare up at him in shock, "You have?"

"Yeah, I brought her uniform here last night when I picked her up," he tells me with another kiss to my head.

I just shake my head in disbelief, "you're amazing," I whisper.

"Well… It has been said," he jokes, running a hand slowly through my hair, "And… I rang in sick for you. Told them you've got food poisoning, hope you don't mind."

I laugh loudly, "amazing _and_a convincing liar," I say, snuggling more against him.

There a few minutes silence, unasked questions linger in the air around us as I wait for him to ask. And he does, just as I expected.

"Blaine… can we talk about last night?" I automatically groan and move to put distance between us, but he prevents me, holding me tight against him. "I just… you don't have to if you don't want to but… you kind of scared me a little and I- I hate seeing you like that," he rushes to explain.

"I- I don't know how to explain," I mutter feebly.

"Can you try?" he asks, and his voice is so calm and so full of caring that I find myself searching for the words.

I move to sit up. He stops me at first, fighting to keep me against him but quickly gives up when I whine and bat at his hands. So I sit up, crossing my legs beneath me and turning to face his lying form, pulling the sheet slightly over myself, already feeling emotionally exposed. He remains laying flat on his back, looking up at me adoringly as he reaches for my hand, pressing a kiss to each knuckle before twining our fingers.

I sigh heavily, still struggling to work out what to say before giving in and saying exactly what I feel. "I guess I just…have a… a _fear_ I suppose you would say, of- of people leaving me," I admit like it's a sin, closing my eyes to prevent myself seeing his expression.

"How'd you mean?" he instantly responds, voice curious but not judgemental.

"I mean- I guess… when _we_ were 17 we- we broke up, so you were gone. And then, when I was 22 S-Soph and Will died, so, that was my big sister, my best friend gone. And then Liam fucked off. And not long after that my parents finally stopped giving a shit, although that'd been a long time coming but it still didn't hurt any less to know they didn't care. And then I was just, sort of abandoned in a new country completely alone. Then later with George when he left to live with someone else, and then I- we argue and suddenly… suddenly you're in Edinburgh and I just- I thought I'd lost _you_of all people, I just… it terrified me I guess,"

"Blaine…" He elongates my name as I feel him sit up in front of me, hands cupping my cheeks as I slowly open my eyes. He greets me with a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I-"

"No no," I hurry to speak over him, "you don't need to apologise, you were completely justified in going away for a few days I just- I reacted badly and then when you were back and not breaking up with me I- I don't even know… It just got to be a bit much I guess. I was so exhausted and relieved and scared, too many emotions and it sort of…" I fumble as I try to explain.

He doesn't say anything but instead just wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him before kissing me gently. Running his hands through my hair he tilts us to the side until we're both lying down again, face to face as our legs spread out and tangle, hands resting on waists and sighs mingling as we pull away.

I allow my eyes to drift shut in relief as I just breathe him in for a few minutes before his voice breaks the silence.

"Blaine?" he whispers my name against my lips.

"Mmm?" I reply, eye's flickering open to be met by deep oceans, shining bright and unfathomable.

"I spoke to my dad while away," he begins, momentarily worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as my eyes widen almost unnoticeably.

"Yeah? Is… Is everything okay?" I find myself asking, a wave of worry threatening to wash over me

He nods as my hands tighten minusculey around his ribs, "He erm… he asked about you," he elaborates slightly, quickly dampening his lips.

"Yeah? What did he say?" I ask, eyebrows rising with the question as my curiosity peaks. But I wait patiently, eyes darting between his, searching for an answer.

"He erm… invited you… for Christmas. At home. As in... in Ohio. He invited you, and Ava, to spend Christmas, with us all, in Ohio, if you… if you want…?"


	34. Chapter XXXIV

Monday 16th December 2019

**Blaine**

"What if he punches me?" I ask as my grip on Kurt's hand tightens.

He laughs, turning to beam at me, the sound of rolling wheels following us as we drag our suitcases through the busy airport. Ava perched on top of mine and leaning back against the extended handle, eyes hungrily taking in the airport. "He isn't going to punch you," Kurt reassures me, still smiling from ear to ear.

"But… what if he does?" I ask unconvinced, averting my eyes from Kurt momentarily to scan the crowd of waiting people in front of us. I wonder whether Kurt's family will have changed much over the past years, I wonder whether I have and whether they'd still recognise me.

"Blaine, my dad has not invited you nearly 4000 miles to punch you," he speaks through a laugh.

"But… how can you be so sure?" I find myself asking, but before he can reply a voice calls his name, high pitched and feminine. His head snaps around, a smile already blazing over his face as both our eyes fall on Carole and Burt, stood quite a distance away through the crowd, Burt raising his hand to make sure we've seen them. And they haven't changed at all. Burt still wears a baseball cap and a small smile, and Carole's still wearing stonewashed jeans and the widest grin I've ever seen.

Kurt's hand tightens on my own, a small squeak of excitement sounding from him as he moves towards them, effectively dragging me behind him as I feel my stomach start to churn, my heart pounding. I turn to check Ava but she's happily distracted, and then suddenly we're there.

We're stood right in front of them and I watch with nervous eyes as Kurt throws himself at his dad, his hand loosening and slipping from mine easily, despite my tight hold and unwillingness to be separated. Burt chuckles and hugs back, eyes scrunching closed with how big his smile is, then Kurt releases him just as suddenly and drags Carole into a tight hug, swaying them slightly from side to side as she laughs into his shoulder, her arms protective around him. I can see tears in Kurt's eyes, swelling and mirroring his increasing happiness.

And I'm just stood there, the hugs only last a few seconds each but in that time I imagine if I'd been meeting my own parents. I don't imagine hugs or tears in eyes; I don't imagine scrunchy eyed smiles and loving pats on the back. But before my mind can be overwhelmed by these facts I hear Ava slip from atop the suitcase and feel her hands close against one of my thighs, looking down I watch as her face tilts up at me, shyness evident in the way she stands. And then Kurt's familiar voice is speaking my name, a reassuring hand slipping gently into mine and I look up, swallowing the lump in my throat I paint on a smile.

"Bur- Mr. Hummel," I correct myself, smiling at Kurt's dad nervously. I watch as his eyes dart quickly down to Ava who's hiding behind my leg before I extend my hand. I can feel it shaking and hope to god that no one else can see just how scared I am. His eye's move swiftly from Ava, who's smiling mischievously up at this stranger, to focus on my out stretched hand. He stares at it for a second and I feel my heart in my throat, the moment can't have lasted longer than a second but it feels like a lifetime as I wait for his reaction. And then out of nowhere he's smiling, wide and honest and heart-breakingly genuine as he bats my hand away jokingly, startling me for a second before he steps forward and wraps me in a tight bear hug.

"How many times do I have to tell you Blaine? Call me Burt," he laughs beside me as my body freezes in shock, I glance to the side and see Kurt smiling, _'I told you so'_he mouths. I find myself smiling and automatically my arms rise to wrap around Burt, laughing exhaustedly as my smile is smothered by his thick coat. And then he steps back and so do I, one of his hands remaining on my shoulder while I stuff one of mine into my pockets to prevent it shaking, the other falling to rest on Ava's head, smoothing her hair to give me something to do. "It's great to see you Blaine," he then says, hand squeezing my shoulder tightly.

I just nod, unable to form words. His hand drops and then Carole's hugging me, I find myself smiling again as I wrap my arms around the smaller woman, feeling my body begin to calm. "I'm so glad you're here Blaine. Kurt said you weren't too sure," she tells me, stepping back but keeping her hands on my upper arms, rubbing up and down soothingly as I feel my arms stop shaking.

"Thank you for inviting me," I say, voice rough and cracking slightly with how dry my mouth and throat are. I cough a little to clear it as Carole smiles at me understandingly, and I can still feel my heart practically thrashing in my chest as my hand instinctively searches out Kurt's. When I find it I feel him squeeze gently, _'calm down'_he's telling me, but I just don't seem to be able to, my body inching closer to him.

"And who's this beautiful little girl?" Carole then coos, kneeling down in front of Ava who giggles and hides behind my leg, poking out from behind me with a blush and a smile. "You must be Ava," she says.

Ava nods, her tiny hands tightening on the fabric of my jeans. I drop my hand to her shoulder, pulling her round a little, she looks up at me with a question and I smile reassuringly. "Say hello Av," I tell her.

"Hi," she whispers, smiling nervously at Carole before glancing up at Burt. She gives him a little wave, to which he chuckles and waves back.

I lean down and scoop her up with one arm, the other hand still clinging tight to Kurt, she giggles again and snuggles into my chest, hiding her face in the fabric of my coat as she peeks at Burt and Carole through her hair. "This is Burt," I tell her, "Kurt's dad, and Carole, his step-mum." She gives them another tiny wave before burrowing against me.

"She's just being shy," I tell them, smiling down at her through her hair.

"No I'm not," she mumbles, but no one hears but me. I squeeze her a little and she squeezes back.

"Are we ready then?" Burt then asks, to which Kurt nods. I then try and slip my hand from his, needing it to grab my suitcase but his grip tightens. I turn to tell him and see just in time as he speaks, nodding to my suitcase.

"Dad, could you…" he trails off.

"Oh no it's fine," I rush to rearrange Ava in my arms so I can carry her, _and_ hold Kurt's hand, _and_ drag my suitcase.

"I've got it," he tells me, "you've got your hands full," he smiles at me and I see a hint of empathy in his eyes, remembering suddenly that he too was a single parent once. A shot of shared understanding passes between us and I smile, although I haven't really felt alone in looking after Ava for months now.

"Thank you," I say as we begin to walk, the rolling of wheels almost silent against the smooth floor. He just nods, knowing that I'm thanking him for far more than just pulling my suitcase.

Within minute's we're all settled in the car, Burt pulling out of the parking lot as Ava crawls from the middle seat to settle on my knee, head burrowing against my shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion, a tiny hand clinging to the collar of my jacket. I smile and lean forward, planting a kiss of her mop of hair as I also smile. I see Kurt watching me out of the corner of my eye, and watch in confusion as he unbuckles his own belt and shuffles into the now unoccupied middle seat.

He leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth before leaning against my other shoulder, tucking his arm beneath mine and weaving out hands together. I smile down at him before looking up; Burt catches my eye in the rear-view mirror and smiles a little as a blush works over my cheeks and ears.

"When're Finn and Rach getting here?" Kurt asks beside me, eyes closed, hair tickling my neck.

"Tomorrow mid day," Carole say's from the front, and I can hear the happiness in her voice as she's not doubt looking forward to seeing her son.

"Do Finn and Rachel know…?" I whisper to Kurt.

He nods and yawns beside me.

I hear Carole laugh from the front seat; I obviously wasn't as quiet as I'd thought. "Yeah they know, Finn won't shut up about finally having someone to play Xbox with, I swear it's all he's spoke to me about since hearing you were coming home with Kurt."

"Daddy!" Ava suddenly shouts, her head shooting up, knocking my jaw and causing my head to snap up a little. Kurt jumps beside me and I watch as a small frown unfurls over his features before he shuffles back down against me, humming as he does so. "Did you remember my 'icture?" she asks, eyes frantically searching mine.

"What picture?" I ask in confusion.

"For Finn," she rolls her eyes in exasperation, "what I drew at school?"

I begin to laugh, the memory of the Bigfoot picture flooding my mind as I nod, "yeah I remembered," I tell her, watching as she grins proudly.

"She drew a picture of Finn?" Kurt asks beside me, eyes having fluttered open without me noticing.

"Yeah… did I never show you?" I ask, raking my brain.

"…No," he replies, seeming confused and a little hurt.

"Oh right… well yeah, it's… well it's a really realistic drawing," I laugh, squeezing his hand in mine, "I'll show when we get to yours," I promise him, smiling as Carole turns to look at us, all snuggled behind the drivers seat.

The car journey is relatively short, idle talk filling the small space as Kurt and Ava both drift in and out of sleep against me. The rumbling of the engine calming me slightly as I answer their questions and ask some myself, but before long we're pulling up in front of their house. A house so achingly familiar and yet frighteningly new that I take a deep breath as I stare up at the building, my eyes instinctively finding Kurt's bedroom window and trying to remember the last time I was in there. But I can't, and just as I desperately sieve through the many memories of Kurt's room, the man in question rouses beside me and stretches his arms, groaning low in his throat.

He smiles sleepily before leaning over me and undoing the door, pushing it open for me. I thank him and slide out, careful to not wake Ava as Burt makes his way round to retrieve our suitcases and bags, Carole heading to the door as Kurt scrambles out and goes to help his dad, yawning again and receiving a light shoulder bump from Burt. Kurt scowls at him and straightens his hair, slightly messed from where he'd been leaning on me.

I'm so busy watching their exchange that I miss the fact that Carole has unlocked the door and is watching me expectantly. "Blaine?" she calls my name and I turn, "want to put her in bed?" she asks and I nod, following after her as she leads me down the hall and up the stairs. I can't help as my eyes flicker and look for subtle changes. The walls are a different colour, the carpet looks new, theirs furniture's and ornaments I don't recognise. But more important are the things which have remained unchanged; the fresh smell of clean laundry and furniture polish, the undeniable warmth despite the bitter weather outside, the instant feeling of safety and homeliness which washes over me, that split in the wood of Finn's bedroom door where Kurt had fallen and smacked into it, requiring six stitches to the back of his head. Leaving a pale white scar which I sometimes find myself tracing without conscious thought.

"Here you go sweetheart, I hope this is okay," she says, my heart leaping at the pet name as she pushes the door open to what I remember being an office for Burt. It had always been a pale green colour, although now there was a single bed instead of a desk, pale pink covers and pillows decorating it along with some stuffed animals. The other furniture is much the same, but instead of folders of paperwork there are dolls and colouring papers, a pile of jigsaws and some other board games. A small wardrobe with drawers has been moved in and the shelves are no longer cramped with car manuals but instead have a few children's books and even a small doll house.

My mouth falls open in shock as I take in the little bedroom. All I had been expecting was a bed pushed up against the wall, which would have been fine, but this is so totally unexpected and wonderful that I'm momentarily speechless.

"How did you… where's all this girl stuff come from?" seems to be the only question my brain can form, hoping that they've not gone out and bought it all seen as they'd both only had sons.

She laughs lightly, "Rachel… mostly," she admits, "we already had the spare bed in the attic, a lady down the road whose daughters just moved away to college was clearing out and came across the puzzles and toys, the tea set is actually Kurt's," she laughs. "And then Rachel said we could go to her dads place and raid her room and their attic. Kurt had said Ava loves anything even remotely girly, so, Rachel's room seemed like the logical place to begin," she laughs again a little nervously and I turn to face her.

"It's perfect, she'll love it," I tell her truthfully, leaning forward to kiss Carole on the cheek. She laughs again and bats at me as I walk towards the bed and peel back the cover.

"You were always such a charmer," she says jokingly as I lay Ava down and swiftly tug off her shoes, tucking the covers around here before turning to face Carole with a grin. "I can see why Kurt's so smitten," she tells me as we walk from the room, me pulling the door gently closed behind us before turning to face her properly.

"He's 'smitten'?" I find myself asking, unable to resist the wide grin which crinkles my eyes.

"Oh yes, he's absolutely smitten with you Blaine," she laughs, turning to walk back down the stairs. I watch her go and find my heart soaring at her words. "Just like you are with him," she then shouts as she reaches the bottom, and I laugh to myself as I quickly make to follow her, unable to argue with the absolute truth of her statement.

I notice our suitcases sat in the hall, waiting to be taken upstairs before I slip my coat off, hanging it with the others and then following the sound of voices into the kitchen, my eyes roaming unstoppably in search of changes, heart leaping with each thing I recognise as the same. And the scene in front of me is painfully familiar, Burt sat at the breakfast bar, Carole leaning against the counter, steaming coffee in hand, laughing at some joke I've missed, and then Kurt. Sat on the counter in the corner where they form a right angle, legs dangling off and swinging slightly as he laughs too, coffee in hand, another cup next to him, steam rising in patterns before disappearing.

He smiles as I slowly walk in, unsure of what to do with myself as they all turn to look at me, my body practically frozen before he smiles and picks up the cup next to him.

"For you," he says, offering it to me from across the room.

I feel as my stomach flips a little with the strangeness of the situation before on seemingly numb feet I cross the room, watching as he smiles at me over his cup before I take it. Taking a tentative sip I take a step back and lean against the counter, eyes downcast and focused on the floor.

"Av still asleep?" he asks, to which I nod, not enjoying the sudden silence and thickness in the atmosphere. I jump a little as Carole places her half drained cup in the sink with an unintentionally loud clink, my hands tightening around the cup grasped in both of mine.

"Burt?" I hear her speak and out of the corner of my eye I see Burt glance up, "can you come and have a look at the tap upstairs, I couldn't get it on this morning," she says, and I think that's such a strange thing to bring up that I find myself glancing over at Burt, who looks just as confused as I feel.

But he stands, albeit reluctantly and follows her as she walks from the room, the creaking of the stairs surprisingly loud in the silence of the house.

"What was that about?" I ask, turning to face Kurt who's just grinning and shaking his head a little.

"She's giving us time alone," he tells me. I make a small 'oh' sound and take another sip from my drink. "She can see how uncomfortable you are," he then says, all remnants of laughter gone, making me feel even more uncomfortable as I hurry to reassure him.

"I-I'm not uncomfortable," I begin.

"Then why'd you move so far away after I handed you your coffee?" he asks, motioning to the at least six foot space I put between us. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He laughs, placing his cup on the counter before extending his arms to me, "come here," he says, "please," he adds when I make no motion to move.

I sigh a little and place my cup on the cold surface before shuffling over to him, closing the distance between us as I step between his legs and his arms wrap around my shoulders. Mine weaving around his waist as I bury my face into his neck and inhale deeply, his warmth and smell and love making my muscles relax. My mind clears slightly and my breathing feels easier as I stand caught in his arms.

"Better?" he whispers after a minute.

"So much better," I mumble into his neck, inching a little closer and smiling as his legs lock behind me, holding me against him; inescapable.

"Good," I feel him sigh and I shiver as his breath creeps below the hem of my clothing.

"It's just so… strange," I admit, not able to find the right words.

"I know," he assures me, rubbing my arms just like Carole had as I pull back, and I wonder whether that's a trait he's got from her. "I know it must be strange to be back here but… just know that they want you here. Both of them" he tells me with a smile, squeezing my arms a little as I nod, taking a deep stuttering breath.

"I know, I know," I hurry to reassure him, "It's just going to take some getting used to I guess."

He nods in agreement, moving one hand from my arm to graze my hairline and cup my cheek, moving slowly around to tangle in my hair as he drags me gently forward, angling my face back a little as I lean up. The last thing I see are the specks of green in his eyes before my own stutter closed and our lips graze. My hands on his waist tighten as I lean forward, his thighs tightening around my body as he holds me against him, other hand dropping to cling tight around my waist, pulling me flush against him as mine glide up his chest and over his shoulders, around his neck as his tongue forces my lips apart.

I press forward hungrily, desperate for his familiar taste and I feel as he shuffles nearer to the edge of the counter, until we're chest to chest, crotch to stomach and wound so tight I'm scared of falling when he releases me. And just as I finally begin to feel myself relaxing into his shape the sound of a voice filters into the room, getting increasingly closer as we jump back. Well, more correctly _I_ jump back, accidentally biting down on Kurt's tongue in my haste to step away.

"Damn tap's working fine, don't know what she's on about," Burt's voice calls before he enters the kitchen, suddenly going silent as Kurt yelps and he takes in our stance, Kurt's hand raising to cover his mouth, legs dropping from around me.

I gasp, "Oh god I'm so sorry," I move to hold his face in my hands but think better of it, remembering Burt stood not far away. Instead I take another step back, hands burrowing into my pockets, eager to put distance between us before Burt has the chance to grab a weapon.

But Kurt catches one of my legs with his ankles, "it's fine," he says with a slight lisp, and I watch as he presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth and winces. "Seriously I'm fine," he reiterates, tightening his loose grip on me as I move to step back again, "come back," he whines a little, reaching towards me with one hand, the other massaging his jaw a little, eye's beseeching.

I risk a hesitant look over my shoulder, but Burt is still stood in the doorway, watching us with an indecipherable expression on his face. And then out of nowhere Carole is beside him, her eyes darting between her husband and Kurt's feet clinging to my leg before she speaks, "did you fix the tap?" she asks nonchalantly, walking past him and towards the fridge, distracting Burt for long enough for Kurt to lean forward, hands fisting my jumper and dragging me against him.

I struggle for a moment, pleading with him with my eyes to just let me go because I'm far too uncomfortable and I can feel the atmosphere thickening around us and I almost can't breathe. I shake my head and push against him a little but he just turns me in his arms, pulling me back against him as he leans down, arms forcing their way beneath my own and wrapping around my chest as he rests his chin on my shoulder, "relax," he whispers, followed by the lightest kiss to the shell of my ear.

Carole walks past us without a second glance as I try to work out what to do with my hands. Normally I would just rest them on Kurt's knees, probably tap against them absently or weave my hands with his, but I can't. Not with Burt having moved to sit back behind the breakfast bar, pulling the newspaper towards himself after shooting us another unnameable expression. "Here you go Blaine," Carole's voice startles me and I jump slightly before accepting my coffee she's holding out for me, "don't want it going cold," she says.

I mutter a 'thanks' and take a sip, pleased to have something to occupy my hands, and not for the first time I find myself wondering whether Carole is a mind reader. And when she starts a conversation with Kurt and his dad which requires no input from me, I thank every deity whose name I know for her ability to draw attention away from my nervousness.

The conversation flows easily and within minutes I feel myself relaxing slowly into the heat of Kurt's body. I allow myself to lean back against him properly, earning myself a sideways smile from him as he takes my weight, my head falling back against his shoulder as I stare absently up at the ceiling. Eventually I drain my cup and place it on the counter, hands automatically lacing with Kurt's before I have a chance to think about the movement. But it's too late now, and his hands are warm in my own, chest solid behind me, voice steady beside me as I allow my heart to calm down and my eyes to flutter shut with exhaustion.

It really has been a tiring day, even without the flight and the stress of airports and the resulting jet lag, I'd be exhausted. The tension of re-meeting Kurt's parents was enough, and then answering questions and being polite and fighting with my own fears of being affectionate have really tired me.

I don't know why I find this particularly difficult, maybe it's because when we were younger and had dated, it wasn't allowed. Well, not '_not allowed'_, but Kurt would blush crimson if ever his father saw us snuggling on the couch, let alone making out. And then there is of course the fact that it's his _parents_, and despite us being older and adults I could never ever even _imagine_ acting like this in front of my own parents. And lastly the fact that in Burt's eyes I broke his sons heart. Admittedly he now knows the entire story, but that doesn't soothe my fear of his anger and initial resentment towards me when Kurt and I began dating again. So yes, I'm struggling with being completely comfortable in front of my boyfriend's parents, but I'm sure I'm not the first.

"Do your parents know you're in Ohio?" Burt asks, although I don't register that he's speaking to me as I yawn and subconsciously shuffle against Kurt, turning my head to the side and nuzzling below his jaw.

"Blaine," Kurt says my name and prods me in my stomach, making me jolt against him and glare as I pull back to look at him. He just laughs under his breath and nods towards his dad.

I turn and see that Carole is hiding a smile and Burt is chuckling slightly. "Huh? Sorry… what? I wasn't listening…" I trail off, feeling my ears beginning to burn.

"I asked whether your parents know you're in Ohio?" he repeats himself.

"Oh, er…" I stammer, chancing a look at Kurt who is also staring at me expectantly, "No… not really. I mean, no, they don't know," I finally say, feeling as Kurt's arms tighten around me almost imperceptibly.

"Oh," Burt utters and I can practically _taste_the question in the air so I choose to answer it regardless of it not having been asked.

"They erm… they don't know about Kurt," I tell them, feeling ashamed at keeping the most precious part of myself from my parents.

"Why not?" Burt asks, but his voice is concerned, not angry.

"We- we don't have the best relationship," I shrug. "I've always found it easier to get on with them when they don't know too much about my- my current boyfriend or- or personal life really," I swallow the lump in my throat as I work up the courage to speak the next bit. "But I was hoping," I say, turning in Kurt's arms to face him slightly, addressing him directly, "maybe, after Christmas you'd want to come and meet them? Officially I mean, as my boyfriend? I was going to take Ava round and I- I don't see why they shouldn't know about the- about you," I force the words from within me, having planned to ask Kurt once we were alone but thinking it probably simpler to ask now the subjects been broached.

I watch nervously as his eyes widen, mouth dropping open slightly before he begins to smile, appreciating no doubt just how much of a big deal this is for me. "I- I'd love to," he says as his grin widens, arms tightening around me as I feel myself begin to relax into him again.

I smile up at him, feeling nervousness drain from my body as I lean back; he kisses the top of my head before leaning and resting his chin atop it, a hum of happiness vibrating from his chest against my back. A few minutes of silence follow, Burt leisurely reading the paper, Carole preparing food, for dinner no doubt, and Kurt just happily leaning against me, sighing slightly before finally speaking.

"We should probably unpack," he says with no enthusiasm.

I groan, "I hate unpacking," I say unnecessarily, because who _likes_unpacking?

"Well, feel free to live out of your suitcase but just know that I'll be silently judging you," he teases gently, unwinding his arms from around me to press against my shoulder blades. He pushes me gently forward a few inches, just enough for him to slide off the counter and brush past me. His hand tickles mine as he passes by and I take it as an invite. Spreading my fingers I smile as his slot into the spaces between them, fitting perfectly as he starts towards the door, me following happily. I chance a look in Burt's direction, but he's distracted by the sports pages. Carole on the other hand is watching us with a badly hidden smile, our eyes lock briefly before I'm half dragged from the room, but I could swear I see her wink.

We climb the stairs as silently as we can, our suitcases occasionally knocking against the wood with a hollow thump before crossing the hall. Kurt pushes open his bedroom door and wanders in, dropping his bags behind the door before holding it open for me. I look up as I enter the room, distantly hearing the door close. The changes in here are much more noticeable than the rest of the house. I wonder whether it's because more in here has actually changed, or just because I knew this room so well.

The essentials are unchanged. The same furniture, same bed and chest of drawers, wardrobe and nightstands. The same vanity table beside the window. The walls are maybe a slightly different shade of cream, maybe just a touch up on the paint work, the books on the shelf have changed, and there are fewer personal pictures on the walls and shelves. As my eyes hungrily take in the room, Kurt speaks beside me.

"Much changed?" he asks, one hand coming to rest on my waist and making me jump slightly as I come back to reality, noticing that he's stood firmly in front of me, staring down at me questioningly.

"Not really," I sigh, "this feels… unreal. This whole day's felt unreal" I finally admit, moving my hand to hold his forearm which is slowly weaving around me, dragging us closer. I turn to smile at him and he catches my eye, frowning a little.

"You okay?" he asks, and I nod in response, leaning forward to rest my head against his collarbone.

"Yeah, just tired," I sigh as he wraps both arms around me in a tight hug.

"D'you want to sleep? I can tell Carole and we'll save dinner till later…" he offers, nuzzling his nose against my neck a little.

I shake my head, "No it's fine. If I sleep now I won't sleep later. I might just be a little dead over dinner," I joke as I pull back and smile at him.

He smiles back, "I'm so glad you decided to come," he says after a few seconds of silence.

"Yeah?" I ask with a lilt to my voice.

"Yeah, of course," he frowns a little, "why wouldn't I be?"

I shrug half heartedly, "I don't know, maybe you wanted to spend Christmas with just your family."

His frown deepens slightly, "What?" he asks in disbelief, "Blaine, why would you think that?" he works to keep eye contact as I stare over his shoulder, resolutely avoiding his eyes.

I shrug again, "I don't know," I repeat again weakly, having no answer but needing reassurance that he wants me here.

"Blaine," he sighs my name, hand falling against my jaw and forcing me to look at him, "you're being stupid, of course I want you here. And so do Carole and Dad, and Finn and Rachel too, we _all_want you here," he rushes to reassure me.

I half smile and glance down, eyes trained on the carpet. I look back up after a few seconds, "thanks," I whisper, suddenly feeling foolish for having doubted him.

"And besides," he starts, "you are my family now."

My eyes shoot up to look into his. They're twinkling with his smile, full of truth and honesty. "You…?" I begin, but I have no idea what to say in response to that.

But he just laughs, pulling me against him and holding us together, "don't look so surprised Blaine, I've thought of you and Av as my family for a long time now,"

"You- you have?" I ask in disbelief, turning to look up at him from where he's still got me held tight against him.

"Of course, you mean the world to me Blaine, how many times do I have to tell you for you to believe me?" he asks jokingly, although there's seriousness hidden beneath his care free smile.

"A couple more times should do it," I joke in response, allowing my eyes to fall shut where I'm leant against his shoulder, a wide smile spreading across my face. "And Kurt?" I ask. He hums above me, hands running leisurely up and down my spine. "I feel the same," I say truthfully.

"You do?" he asks, voice feigning indifference but surprise and happiness seep into his tone.

"Of course," I open my eyes and stare up at him, "I mean… you and Av… you're pretty much all the family I've got,"

He smiles a little sadly but then shakes his head, "that's not true. You've got my dad, and Carole, Finn and Rachel. You've got Will's parents. Maybe it's not a conventional family, but it's a family none the less," he tells me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

And just at that moment there's a faint knock at the door before it creaks open, "guys?" Burt's voice calls as my arms automatically drop from around Kurt. He frowns at me before letting me go, the door finally pushing all the way open. Burt glances between the two of us before I turn and make to unzip the nearest suitcase. "Carole was just wondering whether you're both happy to eat in about half an hour?" he asks.

"Yeah. Yeah that's fine, we'll be down later," Kurt tells him. There's silence which stretches on a little, before I hear the door creak back closed, and I can't help but wonder what silent conversation they've just shared. And then I hear the springs of the bed groan as weight is put on them, but I continue to absently rifle through clothing, looking for nothing in particular.

"Lay with me Blaine," Kurt then says, his voice almost a whisper as I turn to face him. He's sat on the edge of his bed, looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Just relax for a little bit," he encourages, opening his arms to me like an offering.

I smile and straighten up, walking into his open arms and allowing him to pull me over him. We shuffle around for a moment until we're both laying the right way on his bed, heads against pillows and feet tangled. His arm falls beneath and around me as he holds me against him. I snuggle into him, lying half across his chest as our hips knock slightly and my head falls to rest against his shoulder. I hum a little in happiness as I feel my eyes stutter closed.

"Just sleep for 30 minutes and I'll wake you for dinner," he tells me, to which I reply with a smile and slight nod before I feel myself drift off against him, my hand curling up and around his neck, feeling his pulse against my fingertips.


	35. Chapter XXXV

Monday 16th December 2019 (Continued)

**Kurt**

Dinner turns out to take a little longer than expected, but I'm not complaining. It just gives Blaine a little longer to nap, and me a little longer to stare happily at his ruffled hair, pink lips and slightly crushed cheek from where he's resting against my shoulder. He looks so content when he sleeps. All traces of worry and unease wiped from his face to leave a serene peacefulness behind.

That is of course until Ava wakes up and her scream of "daddy!" jolts him awake. He's instantly on his feet, tearing from the room, not even glancing in my direction as I hear him run down the hall, followed by the banging of a door opening.

"I'm here Ava baby, I'm here," I hear him say as I follow swiftly after him, reaching her door in time to see him fall to his knees in front of her as she throws herself into his arms.

There are tear tracks down her usually rosy cheeks as her eyes scrunch shut and her tiny hands cling to Blaine. He pulls her onto his knees and begins to rock her gently back and forth, back and forth, murmuring in her ear as she cries, words far too low for me to hear. Her dark hair falls over his shoulder, and I watch as they just sway in silence. I don't know what to do with myself.

Is this moment too personal for me to join in? I don't even really know what's happened, but I still feel like a loose end just stood in the door watching, and yet I can't bring myself to kneel down beside them, feeling like I'd be intruding. But I sigh in relief when I watch Ava's miniature hands loosen slightly, my heart calming to a normal rate when her sobs begin to quiet down.

"You okay?" he asks her as he pulls back to stare at her, lifting one hand he pushes her hair from her face and gently wipes the tears from her eyes, just as he has for me many times. She nods and sniffles a little. "What was it sweetie?" he questions, still holding her tight as he waits expectantly.

"I- I had a scary d-dream," she stammers, chest heaving, "'n' then I woke u-up and couldn't remember where I was or where you was. Just scared me," she shrugs a little and sniffles, wiping under her nose before smiling wryly at Blaine.

He smiles back. "You know where you are now though?" he asks.

She nods, looking over Blaine's shoulder at me for the first time, "We're at Kurty's house in 'merica," her smile widens as I nod.

Blaine smiles, briefly glancing over his shoulder to me where I'm leant against the door frame. "That's right Av, and you know I'll never be far away don't you?"

She nods again, one hand lifting absently to trace down the bridge of Blaine's nose, "I know. You or Kurty are always around somewhere nearby," she smiles again, completely missing the quick rise of Blaine's eyebrows and the surprise which dawns across his face.

But then the surprised expression is gone just as quick as it appeared, and instead he's just smiling my favourite half smile as he stands and pulls her up with him. She giggles a little as he tickles her sides and plants her firmly on his hip, turning and walking towards me. I turn and leave the room too, leading the way to the stairs just as Carole calls up "boys!"

"We're coming," I call back as we begin to descend the stairs.

"Hey, I'm not a boy," Ava calls from behind me, swinging her leg out when we reach the bottom and kicking my ass.

"Ava!" Blaine reprimands her but I just laugh, as does she, burying her head in Blaine's neck as he shoots us both disapproving looks, which quickly merge into a smile. We walk into the dining room where my parents are bringing in plates and cutlery, they glance up as we enter and both smile a little. And then we both freeze.

Where do we sit? My dad and Carole have always gone either end of the table, and then I'd be sat with my back to the door, Finn opposite. When Blaine had used to come over, he would obviously go next to me, and Rachel's set place was beside Finn. But now Ava? We can't all three of us go along one side, that would just be plain odd, but at the same time I can't suggest we put Ava on Finn's side alone, because she is only four, I'm not that mean.

So instead I walk around to Finn's side and pull out his usual chair, glancing up briefly as I feel everyone's eyes follow me. "What?" I ask to the room in general, three curious faces trained on me, Ava's focused on the fire which flickers behind where I'm stood.

"Where are you going?" My dad asks, easily one of the stupidest questions he's ever asked me, and that's saying something.

"To sit down? Where do you think I'm going?" I reply rather harshly.

"You're not sitting with Blaine?" he asks, and I'm surprised to hear confusion in his tone.

"Well I don't know how you're suggesting we do bu-" I begin to respond before I'm cut off by Carole.

"How about I just go where Finn normally does, and then you can have my seat?" She says with a smile, making to move her glass of water she'd just placed at her normal seat. "Sit down Kurt," she tells me as she walks by and out of the door, her hand briefly resting on my shoulder.

I frown a little before turning to look at Blaine, who is trying and failing to hide a smile as he puts Ava down on my seat between him and Dad. She looks up at my Dad where he's already seated, and giggles a little when he scrunches his face up and crosses his eyes. She's far too small to be able to eat properly, Blaine turning to tell me but I'm already standing. "I'll get some," I tell him as I leave the room.

Within minutes I'm rushing back down the stairs with a small pile of books in my arms, I hear Carole even before entering the room. "I didn't even think about it Blaine, I'm so sorry, I could have gone out and got one of those booster seat things for-"

"Honestly Carole it's fine," Blaine cuts her off as I walk in. He smiles and slips his hands beneath Ava's arms, lifting her laughing form before I slide the books beneath her, just the right amount to elevate her to eat. She shuffles to get comfortable for a moment before beaming at me where I move to take my seat.

"Kurty?" she asks as I pull my chair out, my dad and Carole both watching with interest, smiling at her with happy eyes. I look up into her expectant expression. "It's hard on my butt," she complains with the tiniest frown as I struggle to hold back a laugh, "can I have a cushy?"

Blaine opens his mouth to speak and moves towards the door but I just smile and stop him with a hand on his shoulder. I leave the room, disappearing into the living room to grab a cushion. I walk up behind her and lean over. She looks up and giggles as I press a kiss to her nose, her arms rising to wrap instinctively round my neck as she pulls herself up slightly, just enough for me to slide a cushion atop the hard books before she falls back down with a gentle thump. "Thank you Kurty," she sing-songs as I take my seat, noticing that the table is now filled with food and everyone else has taken their seats.

"It's how we eat at Kurt's," Blaine says with a smile in response to the surprised expressions which flash across my parents faces.

I smile at Ava and my Dad catches my eye as I do so from across the table. He smiles the tiniest bit, but I can't quite read the expression behind his eyes, is that shock? Surprise? Pride even?

But before I get the chance to try and work it out he's looking away, replying to something Carole's said and I'm also forced to look away. But within the next second I feel Blaine's hand close gently around my knee. I glance up and smile at him, sliding my hand discretely under the table to briefly squeeze his, and then his touch is gone as suddenly as it appeared and dinner begins.

The conversation is easy and light hearted and for the most part Blaine is relaxed, although every now and then I catch a shot of panic cross his features, nervousness shine in his eyes. I can see how on edge he is by his tight grip on his cutlery. I try over and over again to reassure him that he's doing great, that he doesn't need to be so scared, that there's absolutely nothing he can do wrong. But each time I reach out to brush my hand down his arm he leans towards Ava. Every time I slide my hand under the table to squeeze his leg I feel him tense beneath my touch. And whenever I try to catch his eye he seems to resolutely avoid my gaze.

By the end of dinner I'm not only tired of trying but annoyed. It wouldn't take much for him to at least acknowledge my smiles, but no, instead we go through an entire dinner and conversation with less interaction between the two of us than when we'd first dated. So when everyone's finished, and Carole's beaming at Ava's childish giggles, and my dad's creeping his hand along the table before tickling under her chin, I finally stand and move to begin clearing plates.

"Don't worry about those Kurt, I'll do them," Carole says, averting her gaze from Ava. I feel as Blaine's eyes focus on me for the first time all night, and another wave of frustration washes through me.

"No it's fine, I don't mind," I tell her truthfully, smiling a little as I stack plates and turn to carry them into the kitchen. As I leave the room I don't miss the thick silence I leave behind, obviously not having hid my bad mood as well as I'd hoped. I drop the plates I'm carrying onto the counter beside the sink with a loud clink and sigh heavily, closing my eyes and splaying my hands against the cold counter top.

After a minute I hear the sound of hinges creaking followed by the heavy padding of feet against the tiles. It's my dad, I can tell by the weight behind each step and the speed, as well as his less than silent breathing.

"Everything okay kiddo?" he asks, coming up beside me with some glasses to be washed.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?" I retort, flicking the hot tap on to drown out the predictably awkward silence.

"No reason," he responds. We stand in silence, both watching the sink fill with hot water as we wait for the other to speak.

I'm the first to break. "It's Blaine," I admit in a whisper.

"Okay, what about him?" my dad asks, leaning over me a little to silence the tap.

I groan and turn to face him, leaning sideways against the counter I stare at the floor, momentarily avoiding making eye contact. He raises his eyebrows in question, to which I roll my eyes and answer feebly, "I don't know… he's just," I stop to glance towards the closed door leading to the dining room, "he's just acting weird," I shrug.

"How do you mean?" Dad asks, voice and eyes steady.

I turn under his scrutiny to dunk the first plate in the water, "I don't even know he's just, he's not _Blaine_," I try to explain.

"He seems fine to me,"

I sigh heavily again, "yeah, that's because you only knew shy, nervous, 17 year old Blaine who was terrified of your fictional shotgun," I retort, unable to resist a small smile as my Dads face breaks out into a wide grin, a deep chuckle filing the kitchen.

"Give him some credit Kurt, he's here isn't he?" he says after a minute, reaching out to hold onto my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Yeah… yeah I know. And I know it can't be easy for him but I just-" I groan again, struggling to find the words as I dry my hands on a tea towel, deciding to have this conversation before doing the dishes. "I just wish he wasn't so nervous, I mean, he _knows_you and Carole. He _knows_this house; I can't understand what's so difficult,"

"Don't you remember the first time you met Luke's parents?" he asks, completely taking me by surprise.

"I- well, yes. But that was different, I didn't know them, I-" I'm cut off when he talks over me.

"So ask yourself; would you rather be in that situation, making that first impression where you can be the perfect boyfriend, and guest, and person? Or would you rather be in Blaine's position… trying to become part of a family you were once practically disowned by? Impressing parents who know things about you which you wish they didn't? Meeting a father who only a matter of months ago shouted hatred down the phone to you?"

My eyes fall from his to focus on the floor. "I- I didn't think of it like that," I finally admit, feeling ashamed of myself.

"I know you didn't Kurt, but _that's_why this is so hard for him," he explains and I nod, sighing tiredly before looking up. I smile half heartedly. "And as if that wasn't bad enough," he begins, my smile immediately dropping, "you've got to remember that his parents have no idea he even _has_ a boyfriend, so the possibility of being… loving and affectionate with you, like you- you probably are at home... being like that in front of us is probably quite a… a difficult thing for him,"

Once again I find my eyes being drawn to the closed door behind which I assume Blaine still is, "But he- he didn't use to be like this around you and Carole," I try to clarify, turning back to my dad with questioning eyes.

He laughs under his breath, "Kurt, that's because you were kids and holding hands in front of me and Carole was enough to make you blush crimson for a few days!" I laugh back.

"That's not true," I roll my eyes at his shocked expression.

"I remember one time Kurt," he begins, and I can see the recognisable glint of happiness in his eye as he retells his story, "I came home from work early, you guys were cuddled up on the couch together, you didn't even hear me come in-"

"Oh god, don't tell this story again please, I thought we agreed to never discuss this," I groan, moving to walk away from him but he just grabs my wrist as he laughs.

"And there you were, all snuggled up, it was completely innocent, you were just watching a film, I didn't even think twice about how you were lying together. And then you turned over- hey listen to me," he chastises as I try to walk away again, feeling heat flush my skin, "you just turned over and smirked at each other, and then just as he leant down to kiss you, you saw me in the doorway, d'you remember what happened Kurt?"

"Eurgh, I'd rather not," I reply in a tired voice, although I can't hold back the blush high on my cheeks or the faint smile at the memory.

"I remember," a voice says from the doorway, both of us turning to look at Blaine, a shy smile curling his lips, "you jumped so high you head butted me and then fell off the couch," he tells us, face splitting into a wide grin as he laughs.

His laughter mingles with my fathers and even I can't resist a little smile, rolling my eyes in mock indignation.

"D'you remember what happened after _that_ Kurt?" my dad asks after a moment, Blaine having moved further into the room to join us where we're stood, but he makes no move to wind our hands together like I know he would if it was just the two of us.

"No but I'm sure you're going to tell me," I reply sarcastically, subconsciously taking a step closer to Blaine.

"You wouldn't look me in the eye for a week," he says with another chuckle. But I look up into his eyes now and smile a little, silently thanking him for talking with me. He understands immediately that I'm grateful and claps me on my shoulder before he walks out.

Blaine turns and watches him go as I lean back against the counter. He then turns back to me with a somewhat hesitant smile as the door swings shut behind my Dad. "What was that about?" he asks.

I shake my head, "nothing, just," I shrug, "just remembering," I explain.

He makes a tiny 'oh' noise and looks briefly away again. I watch as his hands fall into his pockets and his hair drapes a little over his face, not having had it cut in a while like I'd asked.

"Blaine?" I say his name, watching his downcast eyes lift, long lashes dark against his skin.

"Mm?"

"I love you," I say simply, truthfully, watching as the corners of his lips lift up in a smile and his eyes widen the smallest degree.

"I love you too Kurt," his reply is instantaneous and still manages to make my heart beat faster than normal. I close the few feet between us and raise a hand to cup his jaw, the other falling against his waist as I watch his lips part slightly, his eyes glancing between both of mine. And then I kiss him, gently, sweetly, innocently; revelling in the tiny sigh of pleasure which leaves his lips before his arms come up to weave over my shoulders, one hand splaying at my neck before pushing into my hair. I shiver under his touch and pull back.

I close my eyes and rest our foreheads together, breathing in deeply and allowing my body to mould itself slightly to his. _Just give him time,_I tell myself, _give him time to get used to this._

"Are you okay?" he asks out of nowhere.

I blink my eyes open and am met by the golden hues of his, heads still pressed together as I smile. I pull back and nod, tightening my arms around him I pull him against me. "Yeah, I'm fine." I assure him.

/

The rest of the evening passes quickly, both me and Blaine half comatose with exhaustion, eyes drifting shut and heads falling forward before being jolted awake by the sound of the TV, or a particularly loud laugh from dad.

Ava's fallen asleep curled up on my lap on the floor in front of her (my) tea set which she'd asked to be brought down for her to play with. Everyone's been served a pink plastic cup of imaginary tea, and been warned by her to be careful because it's 'very hot'. We all smiled and played along while watching a film, occasionally being interrupted when she asked if anyone needed a refill.

But as soon as she'd drifted off against me, my body began to relax against the sofa behind me, head falling back against the cushion, shuffling subconsciously closer to Blaine's legs, one arm wrapping instinctively around his calf. I feel him stiffen slightly beneath my touch before relaxing as I lean my head beside his leg, cheek against his knee as my eyes fall shut.

A few minute later a hand comes to rest against my neck, a finger absently stroking my collarbone as his breathing slows slightly, his head balancing precariously on his hand, arm propped up against the arm rest.

An unknown amount of time later I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly, "Kurt sweetie? Kurt?" the voice repeats my name as I sleepily blink my eyes open and resist the urge to stretch, suddenly aware of a weight on top of me; Ava. "Why don't you go bed Kurt? The three of you are obviously exhausted,"

I blink a few times, waking myself up before craning my head to look at Blaine, stifling a laugh at his slightly crushed cheek from where he's leaning. "M'kay," I mumble, wrapping my arms tighter around Ava as I move to stand, my ass and one leg numb from how I've been leaning. "Blaine?" I speak his name as I finally stand and turn to look at him.

"Hnng?" he groans and shuffles to lie down properly now I've no longer got hold of his leg. I hear my Dad and Carole laugh behind me and turn to roll my eyes at them. "Blaine!" I say his name louder, kicking his shin gently before he falls asleep completely.

"Yeah, what? Huh?" he rubs at his shin absently before looking up, eyes dazed with sleep, one half of his face red from where it's been pressed against his palm

"We're going bed," I tell him before leaning down to kiss Carole good night where she's sat on the other side of the couch to him. He looks up at me confused for a second before slumping back down into the soft cushions. "Blaine!" I say his name even louder, regretting it as I feel Ava stir against me.

"What? This where I sleep," he explains, tucking his hands beneath his head as he shuffles further down.

"No it isn't," I begin to laugh, realising that in his half asleep state he's regressed to us being 17.

"I know, but I'll up when your dad sleeps," he grumbles in promise, eyes tight shut as he begins to fall back asleep. I'm unable to stop another laugh as I glance round at my dad.

He's confused, eyes trained on Blaine before glancing up at me, and I can hear Carole suppressing laughter beside me. "What- what did he say?"

"Nothing Dad, he said nothing," I tell him, turning away to focus my attention on Blaine, needing to wake him properly. "Blaine!" I say his name loud and close to his ear this time, followed by a sharp pinch of his arm. That does the trick, jolting him upright with angry eyes, rubbing at the skin I pinched.

"What that-?" he begins, glaring at me, "What was that for?" he immediately corrects himself, sitting up properly, rubbing at his arm.

"You wouldn't wake up."

"Well I don't think that was completely necessary," he complains, still rubbing at his arm as he gets to his feet. I can see Carole smiling out of the corner of my eye.

"Well I don't think it was completely necessary of you to tell my Dad that you used to sneak up into my bedroom once he was sleeping," I retort, smiling and watching as his anger morphs into panic.

"I did?" he asks in disbelief.

I smile and nod, opening my mouth to speak before I'm cut off by my father's voice, "you did," he tells Blaine, his voice stern.

"Oh shit," Blaine sighs, running a hand through his messy hair before rubbing his tired eyes. I'm unable to wipe the grin off my face as he struggles to suppress a smirk, his eyes shining under his eyelashes. "Sorry?" he says, although whether it's aimed at me or my dad I don't know.

So instead I just shrug and grin back, before turning and walking from the room. I hear him following diligently behind. "We'll talk about this in the morning Kurt!" My dad shouts as we begin to walk up the stairs.

"Okay," I call back, not at all bothered by that conversation. I turn and grin at Blaine over my shoulder, and he smirks back, mouthing _'oops'._I stifle my laughter, not wanting dad and Carole to hear.

Together we manage to get Ava into her pyjamas while still half asleep, me having to hold her upright as Blaine half wrestles her into them. Then she burrows beneath her duvet and falls instantly asleep, both of us pressing gentle kisses to her temple.

We both then retreat into my room, or our room as it is now. I close the door behind us with a small smile, revelling in the fact we no longer have to keep it open, and even more so in the fact that I'm now allowed to curl up against Blaine for the whole night, without him having to disappear in the early hours back to the couch.

Turning I notice he's leant down in front of his suitcase, rifling through his clothes, no doubt looking for something to sleep in. I flick the light off, plunging us into half darkness, light from the streetlamps and moon still filtering slightly through the curtains. I walk over and crouch down behind him, running my hands down his back before sliding them beneath the fabric of his jumper and shirt. He shivers beneath my touch and his body stills. I then run my hands up his bare skin, rucking his clothes up before he raises his arms, allowing me to force them both off at the same time.

He hums happily as I wind my arms around his waist and press tiny kisses along his shoulders. His head falls back and I kiss his neck, able to see even in the dark as his eyelashes flutter and close, a small smile curling his lips. I move my hands down and unbutton his jeans, feeling him laugh against me.

"Kurt…" he elongates my name and I can tell by the tone of his voice that it's amused as well as disapproving.

"I'm not," I tell him, standing and dragging him up with me. He turns in my arms, eyes following my hands as I unbutton my shirt quickly and shrug it off, eyebrows rising in a question. "Seriously, I'm far too exhausted," I tell him with a smile, moving to undo my own jeans, steadying myself with a hand against his shoulder as I tug them off. I lean forward and kiss him gently, hands moving to unzip his jeans and force them down. He smirks into the kiss before kicking them off.

"It certainly seems like you're making a move," he laughs as I lean down to kiss along his jaw.

"Mmmm," I hum against his warm skin, "sometimes I just can't help myself," I murmur before pulling back. I sigh heavily before he tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. I then turn and pull back the thick duvet, crawling between the sheets I wait to feel his warmth against my back. When I don't I crane my head over my shoulder and am just able to make out the curve of his spine; he's crouching down again in front of his suitcase. "Blaine…" I whine, elongating his name, watching the skin move over his shoulder blades, each vertebrae visible where dim light falls on him.

"I'm just getting a t-shirt," he tells me, smirking as he stands and pulls the black fabric over his body. "Don't want to give Burt more of an excuse to-"

"Whatever. Just get in here," I complain, rolling over to face him and stretching my arms towards him

He smirks and climbs into bed, shuffling close to me, shimmying into the space between my arms. He laughs as I tighten my hold around him, pressing our bodies flush together as his wind around me, lips pressing against the hollow of my throat.

I tangle our bare legs together, pressing my cold feet to his warm calves and burying my face into his hair. "Love you," I whisper against his scalp.

"Love you too," he mumbles against my skin.

After a few minutes I hear the sound of the TV turning off, the groaning of doors and scrape of locks being checked. I hear as light switches are flicked off, followed by near silent footsteps up the stairs. I hear Carole first, padding into the family bathroom, and then my father reaching the top of the stairs a minute later. I hear him cross the hall, having to pass our room to get to his own. I don't miss that his footsteps stop outside our door.

"Burt," I hear Carole whisper, no doubt coming up behind him.

"What? I'm just…" he trails off.

"Leave them be," she tells him.

"Still don't see why the door needs to be shut," I hear him grumble, voice getting a little more distant as they walk away

"Because you trust them, and because they're adults," Carole tells him, "and because they're in love," are the last words I hear before I smile a little and allow exhaustion to drag me under, Blaine's breathe warm against my pulse.


	36. Chapter XXXVI

**A/N: Just want to say that the story told at the end of this actually happened to a friend of mine, and is by far one of my favourite stories to tell, so I hope you appreciate that it actually happened to someone, because it sounds pretty implausible :)**

Tuesday 17th December 2019

**Blaine**

I wake suddenly to the sound of a door being shut, my body jolting slightly before another body moves behind me, one arm resting weightless around my waist. Blinking awake I yawn widely, rolling gently onto my back and smiling as Kurt frowns in his sleep before shuffling closer to me, arm curling up my chest, cheek coming to rest against my shoulder.

I tuck one arm around him, holding him close while my other hand falls against my chest, tangling our fingers together. He squirms a little and makes tiny hums and snuffles of comfort, making me smile widely before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

I then look up and notice that the bedroom door is wide open, the opposite, I'm sure, of how it'd been when we fell asleep. I push the thought to the back of my mind, figuring there is a perfectly logical explanation before I allow my eyes to drift absently around the room. I'm not really looking at anything, just enjoying the almost silence and the slight weight of my boyfriend on top of me, his smell muddling my mind with every breathe I take.

This peacefulness stretches on; the heat of Kurt's bare skin beneath my hand seemingly burning my fingertips as I trace patterns against his spine. I'm staring towards the window, pale sunlight creeping around the edges of the curtains, dust motes dancing in the thin strip of pure white light when there's a gentle knock on the already open door.

I turn slowly, careful to not disturb Kurt, to see Burt stood in the doorway, hesitantly glancing between me and his sleeping son, his eyes focusing momentarily on my fingers trailing along slightly protruding vertebrae. My hand stills, falling to rest against the mattress.

"Hi," I say, voice a little croaky from sleep, catching his attention as his eye's dart up to meet mine. I feel my skin prickle beneath his gaze, wishing there was a way I could push Kurt's weight from on top of me without waking him, without him knowing the reason why.

Burt coughs, clearing his throat, "morning," he says, rubbing behind his neck, "or should I say afternoon," he laughs a little, causing me to lean up and glance towards the clock across Kurt's body. It's almost one in the afternoon. I groan, allowing my head to fall back against my pillow. He laughs again as I smile, and then we both freeze as Kurt moves beside me, one leg hooking over mine. I wonder whether Burt can see that movement beneath the thick blankets. But before I can worry too much about that his hand moves from my chest upwards, stopping as his finger curl around the hem of my t-shirt, his face tilting upwards, lips briefly grazing my neck before he stills again. I can feel each gentle puff of air against my neck as he breathes.

My heart has quickened beneath where Kurt is resting, my pulse thrumming beside his fingertips as I chance a look at Burt. His expression is unreadable in the brief second as his eyes linger on his son, before looking back at me. "I- I haven't slept this late since I was a teenager," I stammer with an attempt at a smile. I'm sure he sees through it. I'm sure he sees my nervousness and has noticed my muscles tensing.

"No…" he says quietly, eyes briefly darting to Kurt again before he smiles at me, "I don't think Kurt _ever_ has," he's laughing again and I feel a fraction of worry ebb from within me. He doesn't seem angry, or bothered by how Kurt is lying against me. I worry fleetingly about the fact that Kurt is wearing next to nothing, and then realise with a flood of relief that to Burt he just looks topless. He has no idea our bare legs are knotted together, or that I can feel his cock pressed against my thigh.

"That doesn't surprise me," I laugh back, chest quivering slightly. I glance quickly at the top of Kurt's head, worried of having woken him. Just as I turn my attention back to Burt I feel him begin to move again, I feel his hand tighten on my collar, nails scraping against my skin slightly as he shuffles, head snuggling against me before he gives up and rolls off me completely. Flattening my arm which was previously around him he lays flat on his back. His arms unwind above him as he stretches, his spine curving upwards as his legs straighten beneath him, eyes scrunching shut, yawning widely with a groan, and then all at once he slumps back into the mattress.

I've seen his waking ritual enough times to be able to predict as he rolls onto his other side, back now facing me and Burt. I know that at this very moment his eyes are probably blinking open, a smaller yawn rippling through his chest, one hand rising, just on cue, to run through his hair.

"Oh god," I hear him groan, no doubt having just seen the time before rolling back over onto his back. Only then does he notice two sets of eyes watching him, both with very different expressions. Mine is one of trepidation, hoping that he doesn't reveal to his father just how little he's wearing, while Burt just watches him with a mixture of laughter and surprise. "Erm, hi…" he says, eyes darting questioningly between the two of us.

We both laugh at his confused expression, "I just came to tell you Finn and Rachel should be here in about half an hour, they just rang," Burt then says, "thought you might want to get up…" he trails off, a small smile still creasing his eyes as he watches Kurt groan and move to sit up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

From this angle I admire the fluid movements of his shoulder blades beneath creamy skin. Normally I would reach a hand up and run it down his spine, maybe press a thumb into the dimples at the base, but not with Burt here. Instead I focus my attention on hoping he isn't going to stand up. But luckily he doesn't, instead just glancing back at me where I'm still lying on my back with a grin. "I feel like I've slept for a decade," he jokes, one hand reaching out and picking something from my hair. He flicks his finger and I watch as a small feather drifts through the air.

"You look like you have," I tease. He rolls his eyes and playfully bats at me, smacking me gently on the head. I gasp in pretend shock before laughing up at him. He grins widely back before leaning down, seeming completely oblivious to his dad still stood in the doorway. He lowers himself over me a little, as best he can at such an awkward angle. I bite my lip, willing him for the first time _not_to kiss me.

I see his eyes focus briefly on my lips before he speaks, "dibs on the shower," he says quickly, taking me completely by surprise before he smirks and leans away. Within a second he's swung his legs off the bed and waltzed into the en suite, not bothering to look back as I sigh in relief. Then my eyes automatically snap round to the door, just in time to see Burt turn and leave. I don't catch whether he's smiling or not.

A minute later I hear the sound of the shower being turned on and I try not to imagine him naked and wet. Groaning as those images fill my mind I drag myself out of bed, unwilling to leave the warmth of the blankets and face the day. I rummage in my suitcase, wondering whether I'll ever get round to unpacking, before pulling on the first pair of sweats I come across. They're a little long for me, _probably Kurt's,_ I think as I turn the hem over at the top, too lazy to try and find a pair that actually fit.

I then leave our room, walking towards the stairs I glance briefly in Ava's room, noticing the crumpled, empty sheets. I quickly descend the stairs, automatically following the sound of voices into the kitchen. I push the door open and am greeted by the smell of eggs and bacon. I'm confused considering the time of day, but hope nonetheless that it's a very late breakfast for me and Kurt.

"Just in time," Carole smiles, Ava placed comfortably on her hip as she moves towards the hob. Ava grins and reaches towards me, I quickly make my way over to her and take her from Carole, unable to resist a wide smile as her arms wind around me and she plants a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Here, I'll do that Carole," I offer, moving to serve my own breakfast. "You've done enough,"

"No you wont, now go and sit down," she elbows me gently out of the way before popping bread in the toaster. My insides swoop at her mothering before I go and take a seat at the breakfast bar, manoeuvring Ava onto my lap. Before long Carole's presenting me with a plate of heavily buttered toast, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and a large glass of orange juice. "Your favourite," she says, smiling at the shocked expression on my face.

I feel a lump rise in my throat as I look up at her. She seems to understand and leans down to press a quick kiss to the top of my head, hand rubbing briefly over my back before she takes the seat next to me, pinching Ava's cheek playfully.

Looking down I notice Ava's picked up a strip of bacon and is chewing on it happily, smiling up at me toothily. "Did you sleep okay?" Carole asks as I pick up my knife and fork.

"Yes, thank you," I tell her, beginning to eat. "Burt said Finn and Rachel are nearly here," I say after a few minutes. Not to fill an awkward silence, because it isn't awkward at all. Talking with Carole is as easy as it's ever been.

She grins widely, happiness dancing in her eyes, "yeah," she sighs a little, "I can't wait," she admits.

I smile at her as I bite into my toast, almost dripping with butter, a delicacy I rarely get at home what with Kurt and his extra low-fat, extra healthy, extra tasteless margarine. "Are they enjoying Chicago?" I ask with genuine interest.

For the next ten minutes she speaks animatedly about her son's new life, how nice their apartment is and how her and Burt are hoping to visit in the new year. She gushes about how quickly Finn found a job, and how much happier they both seem now they're doing what they've always wanted in a city they both love. I listen happily, nodding and interjecting at all the right moments, pretending not to notice when Ava drains the last of my orange juice. Somewhere in the middle of our conversation Burt wanders in from the living room and joins in.

We're all laughing as he tells a story about Finns first day at his new job when Kurt walks in, humming under his breath as he makes his way over to the fridge. His hair is wet, curling a little at the nape of his neck, a striped jumper clings to his slim frame and frighteningly white jeans wrap around his muscled legs. I wonder briefly whether he's done this on purpose, deliberately looking gorgeous in an attempt to fluster me, and then I realise that for him this isn't even trying. This is him in 'around the house' clothes.

I feel myself blush when he turns and catches me staring. I take this as my opportunity to leave. Standing I slip Ava down to the floor before thanking Carole again for my breakfast, dropping my dishes into the sink with a promise of washing them later. I excuse myself to take a shower. When I reach the top of the stairs I hear someone following, turning just as I feel a broad hand close around my shoulder.

The hand is gentle but firm, noticeably not Kurt, far too heavy to be Carole. I feel my heart leap into my throat as I turn hesitantly. "Blaine," Burt says my name as I work to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Yeah?" I ask, hoping to sound nonchalant or at the very least not scared as apprehension creeps beneath my skin.

"I just wanted to talk to you, away from Kurt and Carole, just quickly," he says, dropping his hand from my shoulder and removing the baseball cap from his head. He rubs his head a little, scratching the back of his neck before replacing it on his head with a sigh.

"Okay…" I say, my voice cracking with the sudden dryness in my mouth.

"Look Blaine… I- I think I'm a pretty honest guy," he says, my eyes widen a little as I wonder where this conversation is going. "Thing is, Kurt told me about- about _that_ night. Well he told me a couple weeks ago but, y'know…" he closes his eyes for a moment and I imagine how difficult this conversation must be for him. "He explained what happened, and well, I know now that I was very wrong to assume the worst of you and to- to harbour so many ill-feelings towards you for so long with no justification," he stops talking and looks at me, no doubt awaiting a response.

But I don't know what to say, so instead I just nod a little nervously.

He takes this as his queue to continue. "Anyway… I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry," he half smiles and I can hear the guilt and truthfulness in his apology. "I shouldn't have blamed you for how Kurt behaved that year and well, I especially shouldn't have shouted at you that day over the phone," his eye's lock with mine as he shakes his head, and I take a deep breath to speak.

"Oh… don't- don't worry about it," I shrug, "I erm, totally understand why you felt like that," I hurry to assure him, not caring at all for how he used to feel about me, caring only for how he feels now.

"Yeah well… it was still wrong of me and I wanted to apologise properly, in person," he rubs his head again and I can tell this is taking all of his strength to say.

"Thanks," I say, smiling a little nervously, making to move toward Kurt's room when he doesn't say anything back.

"Wait, before you go," he stops me with a hand closing around my arm. I glance down at the sudden contact before looking back up at him, raising my eyebrows in surprise as I watch a smile creep slowly across his face.

"I see how Kurt is with you," he then says, releasing me but continuing to smile.

"What- what do you mean?" I ask, nervous again as I wonder again what he's talking about

"He's- he's like I remember," he says, eyes flickering to the stairs as if to make sure we're not being overheard. "He's my son again. I noticed the differences over the phone since- since you started seeing each other again, but in person the change is just... amazing," his eyes lock back on mine and I can see a slight shimmer to them which wasn't there before. "Like- like this morning, he's just so… so different to the last few times he's visited,"

I try hard to keep my face impassive as I struggle to comprehend what he's saying or to what exactly he's referring, but before I have a chance he's speaking again.

"He's just… he's _Kurt_again," he emphasises to me. "How happy he is with you, and how willing he is to be affectionate with you, around us," he says, no doubt referring to his cuddling up to me in the car, the kissing in the kitchen, his lack of shyness when he woke up this morning. "He's so relaxed and calm and- and just so obviously happy with you. That much was noticeable over the phone but, seeing his smile in person just… it proves to me that _you're_what brings that smile to his face, and seen as that's the case I want you around for as long as possible," he finally says, and I'm unable to resist the smile which spread across my face.

"Thanks," I say in a whisper, averting my eyes to the floor.

"And Blaine," he says, causing me to look up. "If you were half as bad as him that first year then… I'm glad you found each other again, for both your sakes."

"Thanks Burt," I say, feeling my heart swell at his words and his acceptance and his obvious happiness for us both. He leans forward and we hug briefly.

We pull back and chuckle a little at one another before I again move towards the bedroom.

"Oh, last thing, I promise," he smiles and I laugh as I turn back, "don't- don't be afraid to be, y'know, affectionate n'that with him just because me or Carole are there. I'm not saying… well you know what I'm saying don't you?" he asks.

I shake my head, completely perplexed by what he's saying.

He laughs nervously before speaking again, "It's just… yesterday Carole said you seemed… uncomfortable… I dunno, and I- I guess I sort of saw that this morning when…" he groans as he struggles to articulate his point. "What I'm trying to say," he begins again, smiling as his eyes lock on mine, "is… I'd do anything to see Kurt happy, and if that means enduring you two cuddling up together when we're watching a film, then I'm willing to suffer through the PDA's," he says the final bit as a joke, but I understand immediately what he's trying to say.

I laugh and run a hand through my hair nervously. I wonder fleetingly whether Carole had explicitly told him to talk to me or Kurt about this. Either way, I'm grateful, knowing that I'd go insane if I only felt truly comfortable with Kurt when it's just the two of us. "Thanks," I mutter again.

"Okay… good. So, now that's all out of the way, I'll let you…" he sighs and motions towards Kurt's room, no doubt relieved that those conversations are over.

I smile again and nod, turning and walking away as he descends the stairs. I shower quickly, noticing that Kurt's managed to unpack. My toiletries are gathered at one side of the sink, his on the opposite and our toothbrushes in a glass together in the middle. This, for some reason, makes me smile unexplainably wide before I brush my teeth. When I walk back into our bedroom, towel around my waist, I glance round and grin at his lotions and creams adorning the vanity, before beginning to rifle through the draws and wardrobe for clothes.

I'm just straightening my shirt over my chest when I first hear the additional voices downstairs. There's a sudden roar of laughter followed by Rachel's recognisable voice shouting to be heard. I find myself smiling as I walk down the stairs, hoping Kurt is near enough to cling to if need be. As I turn into the hall the voices grow louder, I can distinctly hear Kurt berating Finn already, followed by a deep chuckle. The kitchen door is already open, and I watch as Finn grabs Kurt round the neck and drags him forward where they're stood together by the fridge. Both Carole and Rachel are sat at the breakfast bar, Burt stood leaning back against the counter opposite his sons, all laughing as Finn ruffles Kurt's hair. Ava giggles manically, the sound filling the room, mingling with the laughter of the adults as she clings to Kurt with one arm, the other reaching up to copy Finn's actions.

Kurt gasps, pretending to be angry despite the absolute joy shining in his eyes. He bats at Finn and manages to get away, huffing as he straightens his hair. "I've missed you Kurt," Finn then says, his voice so full of emotion that Kurt turns from where he's checking his hair in the toaster. He looks up at Finn, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

"I guess I've missed you too," he admits, voice suddenly soft, "when you're not beating me up that is," he quickly tacks on the end, kicking at Finn's shins from a safe distance.

I chose this moment to walk in. "Hey," I say a little shyly, "It's great to- humph," I groan as Rachel flings her arms around my neck, having leaped from her seat to where I'm stood in the door way, her body colliding with mine as she practically screams in excitement. I glance quickly at Kurt who's laughing before gingerly wrapping my arms around her. "Hey Rachel," I manage to squeak out, despite her tight grip around me.

"Oh Blaine," she exclaims as she pulls back, holding me at arms length as she examines me, "It's so great to see you; you look really good, I was so happy when I heard you and Kurt were back together. I always thought the two of you were destined be together, and then hearing you were coming home for Christmas, well, you can just imagine my excitement at having someone who can keep up with me vocally-"

"Hey!" Both Kurt and Finn say, frowning at the hidden insult

But she just ignores them, continuing to ramble as her grip of my arms tightens, "-while I continue to train for my one day numerous performances on the many stages of Chicago," She's beaming widely by the time she finishes, and my eyes are so wide that when I blink it stings a little.

"That's- I- yeah… yeah okay, whatever, yeah. Great to see you too Rachel," I stutter in response, nodding a little as I do so. She embraces me again, and I don't miss the laugh Kurt is struggling to suppress.

"Alright Rachel move over, bro hug coming through," Finn literally barrels over, knocking her gently out of the way before leaning down to hug me. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, paralysing my arms at my sides before he lifts me, my feet dangling easily a foot from the floor as he squeezes me. I feel like a rag doll as my legs swing uselessly beneath me, but I can't help but laugh as he sets me down, staggering slightly when he thumps me affectionately on the shoulder, "great to see you dude," he then says, smiling lopsidedly.

I'm still laughing when I reply, grinning so wide my cheeks are beginning to ache, "you too Finn."

"Oh, and this kid of yours… she's frickin' astounding," he suddenly says, pointing over at Ava who giggles as everyone eyes shift to focus on her, snuggling further against Kurt's chest.

"Finn's finally found someone of the same mental age," Kurt says, rolling his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Finn replies excitedly before the words properly sink in, "hey… no. Kurt, dude, come on," he shakes his head, "I'm at least five, give me some credit," he laughs at his own joke, earning an agreeable snort from Kurt before continuing, "but seriously Blaine, she just counted from one to twenty in French, how does a kid even do that? Well, a none French one, obviously, although…" he stops speaking as Rachel presses a reassuring hand on his arm, his face screwing up slightly as his mind wanders.

I laugh along with the other adults, even Ava sniggers behind her hand, watching Finn with a bemused and intrigued expression. "Yeah, Kurt taught her that," I tell them, my chest swelling with pride at Ava.

"Well… it's amazing. I mean, I struggle to pronounce 'croissant' so my mind was totally blown," we're all laughing again as he motions with his hands, moving back over to where he'd been originally stood. He picks up his drink and sips at it, watching Ava with a look of astonishment, while she stares back with barely contained excitement, obviously already plotting what games to play with her new friend.

"Yeah, I always catch Kurt just babbling away in French to her," I tell them all, moving through the kitchen to grab a glass. I fill it with water as I speak turning and smiling at Kurt now I'm beside him. He just smiles back, a small, plain smile, but long and loving and with shining eyes.

Burt then begins to laugh, causing us all to turn and look at him, all unable to resist smiling as he clutches at his stomach. "Sorry," he says, rubbing a hand down his face, "I just remembered, Carole you'll remember this…" we glance briefly at his wife, who just shrugs her shoulders before turning back to Burt. "When-" he laughs again deeply, "D'you remember when- oh god I can't," he gasps when his eye's lock on Kurt, turning away from us to lean over the counter, still clutching at his stomach as he practically roars with laughter.

"I think I know what this is going to be," Kurt then says, voice void of laughter and stern, glaring at his dad from across the room. "Is this about when I shouted at you in French… and that woman…?" Kurt asks disapprovingly. Burt manages to nod before howling with renewed laughter.

I glance around at Kurt just in time to see him roll his eyes, and just at that moment Finn and Carole begin to laugh as well, both muttering 'oh yeah's before their faces light up. "What happened?" I asked, eyes darting from person to person as a smile breaks over my face, Rachel looks just as confused as me while Kurt remains resolutely silent and stony faced beside me.

"Oh god- I can't… Finn you tell him," Burt gasps, chuckling as he rubs at his aching cheek muscles. I divert my attention to Finn, who's shaking his head with a smile.

"So… it was a couple years ago," he begins, laughing as Kurt rolls his eyes between us and moodily leans back against the counter. "Kurt had come home for Christmas, and we were all out grocery shopping, Rachel was doing a course or something in New York and I was stoking up for when she came home. Anyway, Kurt was in an absolutely _foul_mood," he emphasises.

"No I was not!" Kurt interjects.

"Oh I remember this story," Rachel interrupts with a giggle.

Kurt glares at both her and Finn before turning to face me, "I'd literally _just_got off a fu-friggin' 12 hour flight," he corrects himself just in time, causing me to smile, "and all I'd asked for when I got home, all I wanted in the whole world, was some low fat chocolate ice cream to gorge on because Luke had- because I just did," my heart leaps into my throat at his correction. _Who's Luke?_I want to ask, but don't because the sudden worry in his eyes after his mistake is unmissable. "Anyway, to cut a pointless and long story short, there wasn't any when I got home, so we were all dragged out grocery shopping and then-"

"No no!" Finn plants his hand firmly over Kurt's mouth, causing him to frown and fight at his arm, batting him away before wiping at his lips with a look of disgust. "I'm telling the rest," Finn's excitement has hit a new high it seems as he's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, "so we get in the store, and Kurt's just stomping around cradling this like, _massive_tub of ice cream to his chest, scowling at anyone who dares to make eye contact,"

"You exaggerate so much," I hear Kurt mumble under his breath, earning a 'shush' from Finn.

"And mum and Burt are trying to get him to pick something for dinner, for us all to just agree, and he just keeps shrugging them off and ignoring them, he's really irritable and Burt shouts something up the centre aisle to him, and he just plain ignores him, so Burt's getting angry and shout's something along the lines of 'you turn and listen to me when I'm talking to you Kurt'," he laughs again, voice imitating Burt's. "So then Kurt turns, and just starts shouting in French. Like proper, full on yelling through the store in French, his face got all red and-"

"I wasn't _that_bad," I hear Kurt mutter.

"- and everyone turned to stare, and we were just stood there like 'what the hell Kurt?' and then he," Finn gasps for air, "and then he- he dropped his ice cream, and the tub like, split open and all this half melted chocolate _gunk_ splattered everywhere, and it went all up his white jeans, which were real expensive, and his shirt and he was absolutely covered," he takes another gulp of air as I see Kurt glare at him from the corner of my eyes. "And then this woman, this French woman, storms up to him. She must've been about 80, and she somehow gets through all the melted ice cream and stands in front of him, and at this point the entire store is silent, all just staring at Kurt, and she stops in front of him, and goes 'never should a boy speak to his father like that' in this really thick French accent, and then-" Finn is practically bent double at this point, hands clinging to his stomach, tears in his eyes.

Everyone else is laughing too, Burt suppressing his behind a hand, even I'm chuckling and I don't even know the ending yet. "And then…?" I question, wanting him to continue.

"And then…" Finn gasps, wiping at his eyes.

Kurt groans heavily between us, pushing himself off the counter to stand properly in front of me, "and then she slapped me. Right in the middle of the store, with everyone watching, an old woman slapped me. And then told me that that's how she was taught respect. And then she stomped away, leaving little chocolatey footprints in her wake," he finishes, rolling his eyes as his family laughs louder. But beneath his annoyance I can see the hint of a smile, so I don't feel too bad about laughing.

"Aww Kurt, you poor thing," I tease, unable to wipe the grin from my face as the laughter around us quiets down.

"Don't 'aww' me, I'm perfectly fine," he replies, playfully nudging me as he walks by.

"Is that why you always refuse to buy chocolate ice cream?" I shout as he walks from the room, causing the kitchen to erupt in laughter again.

Eventually we all calm down, wiping under tear filled eyes and opening and closing our mouths, working the ache from our cheeks and jaw from laughing and smiling so hard. "Come on Finn," Rachel says, finishing off her drink after Carole and Burt have moved into the living room, "we should go and unpack," she says, standing and wandering from the room.

Finn's still smiling goofily as he turns to leave, seeming to think twice before turning to me. "I'm really glad you're here Blaine," he says completely out of the blue. My eyebrows arch slightly, "you're way better than all the guys he'd been dating before," he says, clapping me firmly on the shoulder a final time before turning and following Rachel.

I stand in silence for a minute, trying to remember whether Kurt has ever mentioned past boyfriends. I realise that he hasn't… not once. And suddenly my curiosity's peaked, why wouldn't he tell me? And who the hell is Luke?


	37. Chapter XXXVII

**A/N: Just a quick warning, there's something I worry might be triggering nearer the end of this chapter. I don't _think_it will be, and I hope I've written it with the respect that it deserves. I think it's safe to say almost everyone has had some experience with this in the past, I know I have, so that's why I hope it wont be too upsetting for anyone. I haven't gone into detail, really only as much as is needed.**

**Also I've took some artistic license and altered a little something from canon. **

Tuesday 24th December 2019

**Blaine**

It's Christmas Eve and the entire house is woken early by the sound of a neighbour belting out carols as he shovels his drive of snow, out of tune, and much to the annoyance of everyone within hearing distance. I roll over and groan, slinking out of bed and padding into the bathroom, hearing Kurt muffle the words 'oh dear god make it stop' into his pillow before the shower, thankfully, drowns out all other noise.

I walk back into the bedroom not long later and notice that Kurt's no longer in bed, and then I hear his voice downstairs. I begin to get dressed, pulling on boxers and shuffling into jeans. I hear the creak of the top step and the groan of our door as it's pushed open and he walks in, pushing it shut behind him as I button my jeans. His eyes roam quickly over my exposed torso, eyebrow quirking minutely as our eyes lock, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Hey," he says simply, still dressed in his pyjamas, which actually consist of a baggy t-shirt which falls off one shoulder, exposing a wide expanse of unblemished skin over taut muscle and sharp bone, and a pair of my sweats, which he insists are more comfortable than his own despite being a couple inches too short.

"Hey," I say back, forcing my eyes from his collarbone, trailing quickly down his body, trying not to reach out towards him when I see the inch of exposed skin stretched between those hip bones I adore so much.

I then turn away from him, concentrating on finding a shirt, trying, and failing, to not think about the fact we haven't had sex in almost two weeks. It doesn't sound that long, but when you curl up beside a beautiful, horny man every night it takes a lot of will power to refrain yourself. It's mostly my own fault though, only really comfortable with quick kisses or hurried make out sessions when the possibility of someone walking in is so high. Not that Kurt hasn't tried to tempt me though; he's a lot less bothered by his family being around than I am.

"Blaine," he practically mewls my name behind me, making me jump because I didn't realise he'd got so close. His hands fall down to rest on my hips, fingers slotting into that small gap beside each hip bone and my jeans, his fingers massaging the tender muscles there. I close my eyes, trying not to moan as I feel his breath warm on my neck. "I don't know whether you've realised but… the bed's not changed," he whispers throatily in my ear.

"Huh?" I breathe, turning to face where he's now nuzzling against my neck. He catches my eye and smirks, tightening his arms, his chest pressed against my back through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and I can feel waves of heat rushing off him.

"Neither has the mattress," he whispers, attaching his lips to my neck and sucking gently, making me gasp as my hands tighten on the wood of the set of draws in front of me. He chuckles as his lips slip from my skin, the hands on my hips tightening as he turns me around, hands suddenly flat on my chest he pushes me gently back. I hit the wood with a small thump and try not to shiver as his fingers ghost down my chest, my abdomen and stomach, tracing a delicate line above my jeans as he leans in close. "So, apart from the sheets, it's exactly the same as the first time we…" he trails off as his lips reattach to my throat, moaning into my skin as fingers trail up my spine like silk, and _finally_I understand what he's getting at.

I manage to suppress my laughter as I tilt my head back, giving him better access. "The first time we what?" I tease as he begins to walk backwards, fingers hooked into my belt loops.

"I think you know," he responds impishly, leaning down quickly to slam his mouth against mine hard. His tongue licks my lips open as both his hands tug at my jeans, pulling our hips flush together. Eventually his knee's hit the bed and his lips detach from mine as he falls back, a devilish smile curling his mouth before he drags me between his parted knees. "Maybe we can have a second act," he cocks an eyebrow and forcibly pulls me down, rolling his hips up to meet mine where I fall on top of him, hands roaming up my spine, splaying over my shoulder blades as he leans up and peppers my chest with kisses.

I speak through nervous laughter, resting my hands either side of his head to stare down at his mussed hair and blown eyes, pink lips decorating my chest. "If I remember rightly we already had a second act. And a third. A fourth. Tenth, twentieth, fiftieth. To be honest Kurt I've lost count of what act we-"

He shuts me up with a deep, toe curling kiss, hands fisting into my hair, body arcing from the bed to curve against mine, tongue insistent and desperate against my own, small moans and groans echoing from his chest, making it extremely difficult for me to pull away. But when I do his hands instantly move to the hem of his own t-shirt, practically ripping it from his body before dragging us chest to chest. I then feel his hands slide downwards, quickly unbuttoning my jeans, lips sucking irregularly on my neck, making my eyes stutter open and closed as my blood pumps louder and louder in my ear.

"Kurt- stop," I mumble, but he doesn't hear as he drags down the zip with one hand, nails of the other scratching down the side of my ribs and making me shudder. "Kurt!" I say his name louder and finally get his attention. His eyes lock on mine and are almost completely black, nails contracting slightly on my skin as I make a determined effort to stop my hips crashing down on his with the mixture of pain and pleasure he's creating over my flesh. I shake my head a little, trying to sort out my thoughts. "We can't," I manage after a deep breath, "I don't want to with…" I pause to breathe and watch with a stab of guilt as his face drops upon realisation of what I've just said.

"W-what?" He pushes himself up onto his elbows and drags himself a little away from me as I hurry to explain.

"No, no! That came out wrong… I want to. I mean, I _really_want to," I assure him, looking down at the prominent bulge in my pants which I'm straining to hold back, wanting nothing more that to grind against the ridge of his delicious hips. "But I- we can't, with your parents," he frowns at me as I stumble to explain. "I just… they're _right_downstairs," I plead, nodding to the door as if to prove my point.

"That- that never stopped you before," be tries, smiling a little as he traces my hairline with one finger, hurt lingering in his eyes.

I laugh back a little nervously. Moving to kneel above him, taking extra care to not allow myself any friction as I sit on his knees while he continues to look up at me. "I know it didn't but… it's different now. I mean, as much as I love morning sex," I grin as I re-button my jeans, "I just don't feel comfortable doing it with your parents down in the kitchen," I try to explain, hoping he'll understand how this could make me uncomfortable.

He stares at me for a moment before speaking. "Yeah…" he hums, sitting up beneath me and smiling up at me where I'm still a couple of inches taller than him. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry," he apologises with a sigh, hands rubbing up and down my waist. "I just, y'know…" he trails off with a shrug and blushes. I duck my head to catch his eye as he moves to wriggle out from beneath me.

"Just what?" I ask, trying to see his eyes through his thick lashes, his blush turning from pink to red in a second.

"Just… I dunno," he shrugs again as his blush spreads to his ears.

"Kurt, tell me!" I whine, nudging his head up to face me and grinning down at him.

"I just… sometimes-I-just-really-want-you," he rushes to say, blush creeping down his neck. "Well… when I say 'sometimes', I kind of mean all the time," he laughs nervously before chancing a look up at me.

I laugh and struggle to stop myself from grinding down on him, choosing to focus on his adorableness instead of his want for me. "Why're you blushing?" I ask, keeping hold of his chin as I force him to look at me.

He rolls his eyes, "because I'm being stupid," he shakes his head a little and attempts a half smile.

I shake my head slowly before speaking, "no you're not. It's not stupid to want someone." I continue to shake my head, unable to believe that he would be self-conscious of this. "It's actually very flattering," I say in the hope that it'll reduce his embarrassment.

He just hums in the back of his throat, avoiding eye contact as his hands rest on my hips, thumbs pressing into the bones almost experimentally.

"Hey, don't 'hmmm' at me," I tease, bringing both my hands up to cup his face, bringing it close to my own as I speak the next words, watching as his lips part slowly when I stop with my own only an inch away. "And I'll tell you something, I want you just as bad," I breath the words straight between his lips and don't miss the shiver which runs the length of his spine, the way his hands tighten on my hips and his eyes stutter closed.

He whimpers as I pull back, climbing swiftly off of him he slumps back, closing his eyes and groaning. I can't resist a smile as I see his pyjamas tented against his erection. I move around to the wardrobe and pull on a shirt, buttoning it quickly before looking round at him again. He's not moved. I raise my foot and kick at the side of his ribs gently, "get up," I tell him, "go shower and… sort yourself out," I offer with a grin. He glares at me before rolling off the other side, disappearing into the bathroom with a huff, leaving me with a head full of questions I've been waiting to ask for what feels like forever, when really it's hasn't yet been a week.

/

Not long later, after breakfast and offering to help with the food for tomorrow, after promising Ava we'll build a snowman later and promising Kurt that if we do I wont throw snowballs at him, I find myself sat cross legged at the head of our bed, watching Kurt wrap a few last minute presents. I watch him smile with each meticulous fold, then grinning as he ties a final bow before smoothing both hands over the paper. He's just cutting a new piece, scissors snapping swiftly when I blurt out one of my many questions;

"Why've-you-never-mentioned-any-ex-boyfriends?" I ask quickly, the words jumbling together, taking him off guard. I don't miss the way his cutting slices off at the wrong angle, the way his shoulders tense, the worried look which flashes behind his eyes. But then it's gone, and he's just looking up, smiling slowly as he puts his scissors down.

"I don't know… there's never been any reason to..." he trails off, picking up a box with a silk scarf in for Carole. He places it in the middle of the paper and begins wrapping as I continue to watch him.

"But… you know about mine," I say weakly, picking at the fabric I'm sat on.

"I know about two of them," he corrects, not looking up.

"That's two more than I know about," I reply rather moodily, finally causing him to look up. He sighs when he see's my serious expression, dropping the tape in his hand he rubs tiredly at his face.

"Fine. What do you want to know?" he then says, moving around from the foot of the bed to sit beside me, angled towards me while his feet remain flat on the floor.

I shrug, suddenly unsure of what I want to know now the unknown is open for questioning, "I don't know… how many has there been?" I settle on asking.

"How many what?" he asks slowly.

"What do you think?" I laugh gently, quickly stopping when he doesn't even so much as crack a smile.

"Well… how many serious relationships? How many boyfriends? Dates? Fucks?" He asks irritably, jaw set tight, voice cold as he stares at me. Then slowly his words sink in.

"Surely the 'fucks' are synonymous with the 'boyfriends'," I say before I can stop myself.

"Not always," he replies after a moment too long, lips pursing, chin jutting slightly as if challenging me to argue.

"Oh," is all I manage to reply with, eyebrows rising slightly, completely taken aback by this revelation, always having known Kurt as a romantic. He'd always been completely against random hook-ups, and often scoffed at the various relationship dramas of his high school friends.

"Eurgh. This is why I didn't want to talk to you about this," he practically growls as he stands up, folding his arms over his chest as he walks away, turning to face me as he leans back against the chest of drawers.

"What? Why? I mean… it's none of my business what, or _who_ for that matter, you've done," I reply, feeling a hint of nausea in my stomach at the thought of him sleeping around, anger beginning to bubble in my blood, jealousy crawling beneath my skin as I stare resolutely into his grey eyes.

"Yeah well… I know how you feel about- about one night stands or whatever you want to call them, so there's no need to start judging me," he huffs, moving to the foot of the bed to begin clearing up his stuff. I can see tears welling in his eyes and suddenly all my anger evaporates as I watch his hands shake slightly.

I take a deep breath, "I'm not judging you Kurt, I just-" I try to explain before he cuts me off, swinging round to face me.

His hands are fisted, jaw set, eyes red, "you _are_ judging me Blaine! I know you are because everyone always does!" he half yells, body shaking with emotion. Then he chokes out a sob, obviously trying to hold it back before he screws his eyes shut, pressing his palms into them and turning his back to face me.

"Hey hey, no… no I'm not," I plead, crawling quickly to the end of the bed, tentatively taking hold of his arms, turning him to face me. "I'm sorry, Kurt come and sit down; I'm not judging you, please?" I beg, forcing his hands from his eyes, feeling my heart break a little at the sadness and embarrassment evident in his features. "It was just a shock, that's all. I remember how you used to feel about romance and sex, I just didn't think they'd ever become separate for you," I try to explain as I kneel up on the bed, wrapping my arms around his waist where he's stood in front of me, pressing my head against his chest and listening to the frantic beating of his heart.

He sniffles a little before relaxing into the embrace, shuffling forward until his knees hit the mattress, his arms wrapping around me before he leans down, cheek coming to rest against my head as he speaks. "I guess I grew up and got over all the romance crap," he whispers. His chest quivers beneath my face as his breathing evens out.

"What do you mean?" I finally ask, leaning back to look up at him but keeping my arms secure around his body.

"Well… getting your heart broken changes a person," he replies with the smallest shrug, avoiding my eyes as he stares at the carpet.

"Who broke your heart?" I ask, tilting my head to the side to try and capture his eyes.

And then he looks down at me, eyes locking on mine so suddenly that my own widen in shock. His expression is sad, eyes bloodshot, lips turned down in a frown, "You broke my heart Blaine," he says. Then he opens his mouth, as if to say something else but thinks better of it before gently closing it.

"Oh Kurt," I sigh, feeling all the air leave my lungs as my heart shatters in my chest. I drag him against me again, squeezing him tight as his arms wrap securely back around me. We cling to each other in silence for a few minutes, hating ourselves for the pain we've both caused.

"I don't even know why I'm crying," he eventually says through a laugh, releasing me to grab a tissue. I catch his wrist as he reaches for them, making him look down. I raise my hands and gently swipe my thumbs beneath his eyes, causing them to gently flutter closed, eyelashes tickling the pads of my thumbs. I move my hands to cup his cheeks, his eyes opening with a smile before he leans slowly down towards me.

And just at that moment, that shared moment as our eyes drift closed and our lips are so, _so_close to touching, tears clinging to eyelashes, the door bangs open with a resounding smack.

"Finn said he heard shou- oh," Burt stops mid sentence, hand still caught on the door knob, eyes widening for the briefest second as he takes in our position; clinging to one another, lips barely meeting, eyes red, before Kurt groans, straightening his back and glaring at his dad over my head. I laugh as I feel a blush spread up my neck, the tips of my ears burning as I allow my hands to fall to Kurt's chest, pressing my forehead against his sternum.

"_What!_" Kurt shouts, voice cracking from having been crying.

"I- sorry… I thought… are you crying?" Burt stammers, taking a half step forward to study Kurt's red eyes, his voice changing from apologetic to protective in a second.

"I- no," Kurt shakes his head, "well yes, I was but that's not important," he tries to explain as I move from kneeling to swing my legs off the bed. I stand up beside him and half turn to look at Burt, my hand gingerly grasping Kurt's as his dad glances between the two of us. "Dad, can you please just leave us alone for a minute?" Kurt pleads, hand tightening around mine.

"Finn said he heard shouting," Burt repeats, refusing to move from the doorway, glancing occasionally towards me as I inch closer to Kurt, leaning forward I rest my forehead against his shoulder, willing my heart to stop pounding as Kurt's words repeat over and over again in my mind, as well as wondering what else he'd wanted to say.

"Yes it was me… now can you please just go?" he practically begs, free hand moving to cradle the back of my neck where it's bowed towards him. I shiver as his fingers twist gently in my hair before he angles himself completely towards me, pulling me against him. Our hands release each other, his automatically winding around my waist as both my arms move to cling around his shoulder, burying my face into his neck. I can no longer see Burt, my back to him and eyes screwed shut with the effort to hold back tears of my own.

"If you're sure you're both o-" I hear Burt say hesitantly, cut off as Kurt speaks above me.

"We're _fine_Dad," he assures him, hands beginning to rub soothingly over my back. I then hear the door gently click shut. Kurt continues to rub my spine, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my ear before he speaks gently, "why're you crying Blaine?"

I laugh a little bitterly, turning my face to look into his, "I was such a fucking idiot Kurt."

"What're you talking about?" He asks, concern lacing his words.

"Before… I just- If I hadn't been such a complete dick to you that morning, or- or if I hadn't been so a-aggressive." I pull away slightly, wiping at my eyes as his arms remain around me. "If I'd bothered to call you afterwards. We could have- we might have never- If I'd just had the g-guts to _speak_to you, or-" my voice is growing louder and I become steadily more annoyed at my younger self before his words cut me off.

"Or if I hadn't had sex with another guy," he says.

My head snaps up instantly to look at him, shaking my head as I reply, "No Kurt don't-"

He's instantly talking again, smiling a little hollowly as he cups my cheeks, "don't what? Don't take the blame? Blaine, when are you going to realise what happened wasn't your fault _at all,_" he emphasises the final words, eyes quickly roaming over my face as he delicately pushes my hair back. "You weren't an idiot back then," he says with a small smile, "but you're being one now," he tells me, dragging me into his comforting embrace.

Somehow I find myself laughing, relaxing against his body. I don't agree with what he's saying, but I know well enough that arguing will get me nowhere, and right now all I want is for him to be happy.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to go and get you a drink or…" he trails off as I shake my head.

"No, can we just stay here for a bit?" he nods with a smile and drags me over to the bed. Gingerly we lie down beside each other, face to face as we smile. His arm falls over my waist, mine coming up to trace his hairline while the one I'm lying on curls around my body, tangling our fingers gently. His eyes close as he sighs beneath my touch, a smile spreading across his face, and for the millionth time I fall a little bit more in love with him.

"We really do get ourselves in a state sometime," he says after a few minutes, eyes fluttering open sleepily as he laughs under his breath.

I laugh back and nod, relieved to see the redness around his eyes fading. I wait for his eyes to fall shut again before speaking the question I'm still waiting for answers to. "Can we still talk about- about your ex's, if you don't mind?"

His small smile disappears but he doesn't refuse, he doesn't even so much as groan. Just shrugs a little, eyes opening slowly, "I guess," he says, "what exactly do you want to know?"

That same question hits me again and suddenly I'm speechless. It's hard because I don't know _what_I want to know. Do I want to know how many guys he's fucked? _Probably not…_ I think as a fresh wave of jealousy crashes through me, followed by a strange sick feeling at just how many hands might've touched him, lips might've kissed him, how many men might've fucked him. I try not to imagine their hands roaming over his flawless body, painting sordid lines across his skin, mouths breathing hot against his neck. I feel myself shudder as images flood my mind.

Groaning I roll onto my back, earning a frown from Kurt before he tentatively shuffles forward, nudging my arm until I move it. He snuggles into the space and my arm already accustomed to his shape falls comfortably over him as his head rests against my shoulder. He winds an arm over me, running his fingertips up my side before speaking, "What's wrong?"

I laugh and look down at him, admiring the way our bodies slot together perfectly; moulding to fit the other as if we were _born_to lie like this, and I just _know_he's never had that with anyone but me. "Just trying not to imagine you with other men," I tell him, only half joking.

"It's really not that many… if you want to know-"

"No no… I'd rather not. Honestly, it doesn't bother me," I lie. He stares at me for a second before leaning up, pressing a quick kiss to my jaw before cuddling back down against me. "Just… tell me about your serious relationships," I settle on, figuring they're the only ones which must matter to him, or at least did at some point.

"M'kay," he sighs a little, hooking a leg over mine almost possessively. I watch his eyes close as he begins to talk. "I didn't really erm, date anyone, for a long time after we broke up. I just didn't," I nod a little, knowing exactly how he'd felt. "Then I moved to London, and well, I'm sure you can imagine how much of a change studying fashion in London was to a high school in Ohio," he says, and I have to physically hold back a groan as I imagine all the gay men not only at his college but in London, in clubs and bars and student accommodation. "I sort of had a hard time settling in, I was really homesick and quite honestly I was terrified of this huge city and the millions of people and how- how just, _open_everyone was about everything. I mean, I was hardly in the closet _here_ but… it was like a whole other world," he looks up at me then and I can see a happy gleam in his eyes as he talks about where is now home.

"Carry on," I tell him after nodding my agreement.

"So… all of a sudden there were guys just- just asking me out and hooking up with each other and people were inviting me to bars and… I dunno, I guess I was sort of terrified of what could happen. I was still kind of, depressed, so I didn't really go out much for the first few months, just politely turning people down and I guess it sort of got around that I didn't date, and that was fine with me. Anyway… it was about mid way through my first year when this guy, Jamie, came over and started talking to me. He asked me out and yeah, we just sort of went from there I guess," he finishes a little suddenly.

"How long did you date for?" I ask.

"Er…" he hums, "we were together for about… eight months? Nine months? I think it was nine," he says. My jaw tenses at the word 'together'. _I don't want him 'together' with anyone but me,_I think as my grip around him tightens a little.

"What happened?"

He shrugs, not seeming all that bothered about the failed relationship, "Nothing big we just sort of drifted apart. We both got so busy with work, he was an art student, and I guess we just stopped making time for each other." I nod a little above him, not really having anything to say. After a minute he continues, "about three months later was…" he frowns a little as he thinks, "Eli, which lasted just over a year," he sighs a little at that, and I find my heart leaping into my throat at his reaction.

"What happened with Eli?" I ask, voice low as I feel him press closer to me.

"He moved back to New Zealand," he shrugs. "We were stupid really, because we knew he'd be going home in the new year but, I dunno, you don't really think about the logistics of a relationship when you're in lo- when you're in it," he catches himself just in time, and a feel a jolt of something unnameable race up my spin.

_When you're in love,_he was going to say. _He loved this other man_, I find myself thinking over and over again. And it's stupid really for this to surprise me, for this to make my heart lurch and my grip tighten and my eyes flutter closed with something similar to defeat. Had I been foolish enough after our breakup to believe he'd never fall in love again? No… but I had been foolish enough to _hope_.

_That sounds cruel,_I think to myself, and it's wrong. I _wanted_ him to fall in love. I wanted him to fall madly, passionately, _insatiably_ in love. _But I wanted that to be with me,_I realise suddenly, almost shaking with the realisation of the truth. Even when I'd been with Liam for three years, even after moving to England, the relationships I've had there, all that time, in the back of my mind had been Kurt; _I wonder where he lives… I wonder what college he went to… I wonder who he sleeps beside at night._

"Blaine?" he speaks beside me and I blink a few times to clear my head, my mind having drifted. He's looking at me with a concerned expression, and I wonder how long I'd been silent. "Are you okay?" he asks worried.

"I- yeah. Yeah I'm fine, sorry," I smile reassuringly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his parted lips, feeling his sigh into my mouth. _I'm who he sleeps beside at night,_I think with a rush of triumph and pride and overwhelming joy. "Sorry, my mind wandered, carry on," I explain with a smile.

He stares at me for a moment longer before dropping back down against me and continuing, snuggling an inch closer. His body is suddenly tense against mine, no longer relaxed as he speaks, "So after Eli was- was Luke," my own body tenses at the name; this is what I've been waiting for. I feel him shuffle against me a little. "Urm, I don't really know what to say about him…" he trails off a little.

"How'd you meet?" I ask inquisitively.

"Just a friend of a friend sort of situation," he says unhelpfully as I glance down to see him wet his dry lips, eyes averted to the other side of the room. "And after him was-"

"No no- wait!" I say suddenly, not getting nearly as much information as I'd hoped for. Kurt looks up at me suddenly, "What happened? How long were you… together?" I find myself asking without thinking, hating the word 'together' a little bit more each minute.

He looks away silently, taking a deep breath before exhaling through his nose. "We were together for about two and a half years," my eyes widen in shock, "we lived together for two of those," I hadn't even thought about the possibility of him having lived with someone, "and- and we broke up after he- when he- he erm-" he takes a stuttering breath and my eyebrows shoot up as I watch tears well in his eyes for the second time, my heart hammering at this new information. "Oh god, I'm sorry," he's suddenly muttering as he rolls quickly off of me and sits up, legs swinging off the bed. I watch his spine curve as he lowers his face into his hands.

I'm frozen in place, a chill washing over me from where his warmth has disappeared, watching with stunned eyes as he cries over another man, sobs wracking his body. And then suddenly he's standing and I bolt upright, watching every fluid move of his body as his hands tangle in his hair and pull at his scalp in frustration. He turns then, just slightly, and I can see his profile, his skin is red and patchy, his mouth and eyes squeezed shut as if to hold in his sobs. "Kurt?" I say delicately, scooting to his side of the bed, watching with hesitant eyes.

He either doesn't hear me or just ignores me, his arms falling to his side limply as he paces slightly; not facing me I see his hands weakly wind around his waist. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" he suddenly gasps through a fresh sob before he kicks at the wardrobe, his foot bare, a crunching sound breaking the tense silence before he cries out in pain and falls to the floor, cradling his injured foot.

"Kurt!" I call out before I fall to the floor beside him. I force my arms around him and drag him back against my chest, hooking my arms beneath his knees I manoeuvre him onto my lap, my back against the bed as he turns and coils against me. He cries into my neck, one hand clinging to his foot while the other is held over his mouth as if to silence himself. I shush him and rock him gently, one hand rubbing over his back, the other along his thigh, whispering in his ear every once in a while, telling him _it's okay_ and _I'm here_ and _you don't have to tell me_and _I love you_.

Eventually his sobs calm to small hiccups and gentle shudders, his hand drops from his mouth and clings instead to the collar of my shirt and his eyes fall closed with exhaustion. "How's your foot?" I ask, eyes darting to look at the toes he's still cradling.

He snorts a little and blinks his eyes open, head lifting from my shoulder to look at his toes, peeling his fingers away I'm relieved to see none look broken. "Fine," he says quietly, slowly wiggling them before his head falls to rest on my shoulder again. "I'm sorry," he then whispers against my skin.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for Kurt," I tell him, squeezing slightly, "I shouldn't have forced you to tell me when you obviously didn't want to."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," he reassures me, hand releasing my collar and moving to trace behind my ear, tickling along my jaw as he tilts my head to face him. "It's just I've never told _anyone_before." His eyes are blood shot, skin pallid, eyelashes clinging together.

"Told anyone what?" I find myself whispering almost directly between his lips as he stares up at me.

"About Luke," he confirms.

"What about him?" I whisper again, my entire body still, the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

He stares up at me for the longest second. I can feel his heart pounding from where my hand rests on his back, I can see his eyes searching mine, his throat working to swallow before speaking two simple, heart breaking words; "he died," is all he says, voice barely audible over the heavy silence, his eyes dulling with pure, indescribable sorrow. My mouth falls open instantly but there are no words, so I just watch as his eye lashes flutter closed and a single, silent tear falls from the corner of his eye, falling fast over already tear stained skin before dripping onto my neck.

His hand drops from where his fingers were resting on my jaw and fists the fabric of my shirt as he pushes harder against me, burrowing deeper, pressing his face into my neck as his body begins to convulse with renewed sobs.

"Oh god Kurt," the words leave my body helplessly as my grip around him tightens protectively. Not because he's crying for another man, but because I'd do anything to take away his pain, for me to suffer it instead. I would give the world to see him smiling. "I'm sorry Kurt, I'm so sorry," I tell him uselessly as I duck my head, pressing delicate kisses to the half of his face I can reach, rocking him gently and wishing I'd never brought this up.

We remain in silence, occasionally broken by him shuddering or me whispering against his skin. Then our door creaks open and I'm momentarily confused before I remember where we are. It opens slowly to reveal Ava, stood in a woolly winter hat, thick coat and mittens, a scarf hanging around her neck and the laces of her shoes untied. "Daddy can you help me with- Kurty?" he tone changes when her eyes fall on Kurt, cradled in my arms.

She tentatively enters the room, coming to a stop directly in front of us. I lean forward, Kurt moving with me slightly, to tie her laces for her, watching her as she cocks her head to the side inquisitively. Kurt wipes at his eyes and attempts to smile at her, leaning forward to zip up her coat. "You're crying," she observes, reaching a hand out to touch Kurt's face, fingers gliding smoothly down his cheeks from his eyes, tracing the path of his tears.

He looks up and smiles again; sniffling a little he cups her face and pulls her down, pressing a kiss to her forehead just below her hat. "Just a little," he tells her, "but I'm okay now."

She looks unconvinced, glancing to me as if for proof. "You going out to play Av?" I ask, drawing the attention away from Kurt.

She nods slowly, "with Finn," she tells me before looking back to Kurt, "promise?" she says simply, eyebrows rising questioningly.

"I promise Av, I'm fine, I'm just being silly," he tries to assure her, smiling again as he knots her scarf for her.

"Do you need me to sing you a song?" she asks seriously, and I look at Kurt just in time to see a genuine smile curl his lips, eyes creasing in the corners as he looks at her.

"Not right now, but maybe later?"

She nods enthusiastically, "and will you come out to play in the snow later? You and daddy?" her eyes dart briefly to me.

Kurt nods, still smiling, "of course we will," he assures her.

She smiles again, and then suddenly Finn's booming voice is calling her from the bottom of the stairs, teasing that all the snow will be gone if she takes much longer. She's laughing as she leans forward, wrapping her small arms around Kurt's neck, "love you Kurty," she tells him before pulling away, and I see as his face light up.

"Love you too Ava," he immediately says in return.

She beams before turning to me, "and I guess you're not too bad either," she teases, leaning over Kurt to kiss my jaw.

I laugh at her teasing, "thanks," I say. Then with one final glance at us both, her eyes lingering a moment longer on Kurt, she turns and disappears from the room, leaving the door wide open.

Kurt then sighs heavily and slumps back against me. I wind my arms around his waist from his changed position and kiss his shoulder, feeling him shuffle to get comfortable. "My ass is so numb," he says through a hollow laugh.

I laugh a little in return, "I know, same," I tell him, hands falling to his hips to steady him as he stands, bending his back and rolling his shoulders before turning to offer me a hand. He pulls me up and I instantly drag him against me, feeling him sigh exhaustedly before relaxing into my arms. "I'm sorry Kurt, I really am," I tell him again, not even able to imagine how awful Luke's death must've been for him.

He doesn't respond for a while, just letting me hold him for a few minutes before finally speaking. "D'you want to know who was after him?" he asks against my hair, pulling back a little to look at me, half his mouth turned up into a smile.

"No… no I don't, I shouldn't have asked, it-" I hurry to assure him.

"But this is when it gets good," he says gently, eyes taking in my worried expression. "You. You were after him," he tells me, "and you've made me happier than I ever thought possible," he's nodding as he swallows, "you really have." And then he's kissing me, gently parting my lips before trailing his tongue along my teeth, gliding against my own, pressing a little hungrily before pulling back. He licks at his lips, tasting me there before resting our foreheads together.

And we just stay like that for a minute, wound so tightly together that if he was to step away now I'm sure I'd fall to the floor. My heart is still beating fast in my chest with what Kurt's told me, my head starting to ache with exhaustion and sorrow for Kurt. "I'm sorry Kurt," I repeat myself, not knowing what else to say. His eyes flicker open, still glazed with tears but smiling very slightly.

"It's not your fault silly," he teases gently, allowing his eyes to fall back closed, body sinking more against mine. But I take the weight, supporting him in the only way I seem able to.

"Can I- do you mind if I ask…" I trail off, not knowing how to word my question.

"How?" he finishes it for me and I just nod lamely. I hear him swallow the lump in his throat before taking a deep breath, "He erm, he always suffered from headaches, for as long as I knew him anyway. They just started to get really bad all of a sudden, lasting days and days, sometimes- sometimes well over a week," Kurt's speech is faltering and stuttery at this point, his body practically shaking in my arms. "Then he started vomiting in the mornings, struggling to form words. One morning he woke up and he- he couldn't feel his entire right side, it was completely numb," he's taking deep, calming breaths and I watch with a broken heart as he relives those mornings. "I- I rang the ambulance that morning, and he was just stumbling around the apartment, he was so angry I'd rang 999. He hated hospitals," he laughs bitterly at that. I don't crack a smile.

"It took me and two paramedics to get him into the ambulance and then he- he had a seizure and I- all I can remember is the sound of the sirens," his hands are shaking where they gripping me tightly, tears falling fast and heavy down his cheeks for what feels like the hundredth time today. "Then we were at the hospital and he was being wheeled away and I was trying to call his parents. Hours later, I don't know how many hours, it felt like forever, they'd done all sorts of scans and stuff, and we were finally allowed in to see him," Kurt leans back slightly, rubbing his hands down his face before looking down at me with wide, tearful eyes. "Turns out he had a tumour the size of a grapefruit growing right…" he trails off gently, reaching his hand up, briefly cupping my cheek before a singular finger parts my hair, trailing above my ear for about four inches before stopping, pressing a little harder, "…here," he finishes, my breath stuttering as his eyes move from the point of his finger to look into mine.

And then his hands drops suddenly, face falling into a half hearted smile which looks much more like a grimace. "Oh Kurt," I gasp, leaning forward to rest my pounding head against his chest, feeling his breath reassuring and regular against my hair. "I'm so sorry… I don't know what to say, I can't even begin to imagine," I'm shaking my head as I speak.

"Sometimes I can't either," is all he says, squeezing me tightly before taking a half step back. He looks down and sniffles a little before speaking again, "this is going to seem like an odd request, but can you not mention this to dad and Carole? They don't actually know,"

"They don't know?" I ask confused.

He shakes his head, "He erm, he broke up with me when he got diagnosed… that morning in fact… because he thought it'd be easier for me if- if we weren't _technically_ together, easier for me to move on I guess. But it was pointless because there was no way I was going anywhere. He had surgery but it was too late apparently, it had spread," he shrugs a little, not really wanting to remember. "Anyway, he kept telling me to just leave and get on with my life but he- he was my life, I couldn't just _leave_him. So I er, I told my parents we broke up, and they accepted that. And then months later when he- he died it seemed pointless to tell them. It'd just upset them and I- I didn't want their pity so…" he shrugs again as he trails off.

I nod, promising I won't mention it. He smiles a little before sighing heavily. Unwinding his arms from around me and with somewhat shaky hands rubs his face, the corners of his eyes and pushes his hair back. I just stare up at him with sad eyes, feeling my heart ache for the pain he must have gone through. "I'm sorry," I repeat myself, "for bringing this up and for upsetting you and-"

He laughs, although it sounds somewhat empty. "Stop apologising, and you had every right to want to know and as for upsetting me well, I upset myself," he tells me, rubbing my arms comfortingly, despite him being the one in need of comfort. "And stop looking at me like that," he then says jokingly, although I can hear the seriousness beneath the laughter. I quickly change my face from pitying to a smile, although he doesn't seem convinced.

"Sorry," I instantly apologise again, "but I just can't even imagine…" I trail off; staring into his wide, pain stricken eyes, "I mean, if I ever lost you I don't even-"

"Don't!" he says suddenly, hand moving swiftly to silence me as his eyes flash with fear, "don't even talk about that!" he threatens. "We're both fine, and we're both healthy, and we're not going anywhere," he tells me sternly. And I just nod, believing his words because what choice do I have? "Okay," he says, although it seems more to himself, "well, I'm completely exhausted," his eyes then find mine and for the first time since this conversation began I can see genuine laughter in them. "Can you tell I've been crying?" he asks.

I nod, to which he groans and moves around to his vanity, falling onto the stool in defeat. He peers closely at his face, tilting his head before picking up a small tub of cream and beginning to massage it into his skin. I watch his reflection in the mirror as he works to remove the redness, dabbing some around his eyes which fall closed as he gently works it in with his ring finger. When he blinks them open he catches my eye and smiles a little, although it doesn't make his face crinkle with happiness.

"I guess I should go and help dad and Carole then," he groans as he stands, stretching his arms a little as he makes his way towards me, "what're you going to do?"

I shrug, "might go outside with Finn and Av, or I can stay in with you and help," he shakes his head and smiles, lacing our hands before walking from the room, leading me down the stairs.

He grabs my coat and holds it out for me, helping me into it before kissing behind my ear, pressing his face into my neck a little. "I might come out later," he says as we walk into the kitchen. Carole turns from the sink and smiles at us, Burt looking up from where he's been set to work chopping carrots. Neither of them mentions Kurt's not very well hidden red eyes. Burt has no doubt told Carole what he'd walked in on earlier anyway.

"M'kay," I say, he opens the back door and holds it for me as I step out, pulling my gloves on. I can hear Finn and Ava's voice carrying on the wind, Rachel's occasional screams mixing with them, their laughter high pitched and carefree. I turn back to him where he's pulled the door shut slightly behind himself, obscuring us from his parents view. He shivers in the cold, skin even paler than usual as it reflects the snow, eyes bright and clear in the low winter sun as he stares at where Finn is running with Ava towering high on his shoulders, a half constructed, badly supported snowman behind them. I tiptoe in front of him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, taking him by surprise before he turns and smiles at me, leaning down to kiss me properly, just quickly, gently as he shudders a little beneath my gloved hand.

We pull back and he smiles the tiniest bit before pushing the door open again. He watches as I turn and make my way over to the others, I look back just in time to see the door shut, watching as he appears in the window beside Carole. I see her turn to him, her mouth working around impossible to hear words and he just smiles and nods, taking something from her hands before looking up and out the window. He smiles at me before waving to Ava where she's breaking branches from a tree with help from Finn.

I keep glancing at him covertly as I help with the snowman. Every time I look he seems to be smiling or laughing, occasionally rolling his eyes, teasing his dad. He seems content, happy even, despite what we've just discussed. And that's all I really want in life, for him and Ava to be happy, and judging from the cries of laughter erupting from her tiny body she's happy as well.


	38. Chapter XXXVIII

**A/N: I didn't mean for what happens in the first section to happen. I genuinely didn't. But I was just writing away and it appeared and I was like 'oh, you're not supposed to be there', and I can honestly say I've had a plan in mind for this for-fucking-ever and then my own fingers betray me and write an alternative. But it fits in so well I really couldn't bring myself to edit it out. So I apologise if it isn't what you had in mind or it doesn't happen how you wanted or whatever, but I can honestly say this isn't even how _I_imagined it so... we're all in the same boat here really...**

**ENJOY...**

Wednesday 25th December 2019

**Kurt**

I can smell bleach.

Strong and harsh, cutting the back of my throat and making my head spin. Unrelenting and unignorable and it _burns_ my lungs and my brain and absorbs into my heart before evaporating through my body. My hands are cold, my arms and shoulders and torso cold. Cold right down to my toes and up to the tips of my ears. So cold I'm shaking. Achingly cold. I whimper, I try to move but can't, shackled by unknown forces, the stench of _too_clean infesting my body, bright, white dazzling fluorescent lights burn my irises and hold me down.

I feel something stir behind me but my body won't allow me to move, I can't crane my neck to see, my eyes locked in place within their sockets, wide and open but blind. I'm scared. Scared beyond words and I can't _move. Why can't I move?_

"Kurt?" a voice says behind me. But the voice is _different_, contrasting with every unwelcome sight of _too_ bright, the taste of _too_ bitter, feeling weak and hearing screaming silence and the smell of bleach which leaves gashes on your oesophagus. The voice is warm and familiar and deep with sleep. Gruff and a little hoarse and _so_ beautiful as I feel a point of heat press against my chest, seeping into my skin and spreading slowly like the creeping vines of ivy. I whimper again, but it isn't from fear this time; it's relief. It's Blaine. "Kurt?" he says my name again and I will myself to wake up. _Please can I just wake up?_

The thick cloud begins to lift and the cold is replaced by heat. Soft sheets and a heavy duvet, a wide hand on my chest, pressing gently as a body lays flush along my spine. Curved and curled and caressing me from head to toe as I feel fear vanish from within me. Because I'm safe. I sigh heavily, lips falling open as I take a deep breath, the last of the bleach disappearing from my sleep addled mind as my eyes blink willingly open. I see our room swathed in darkness. The outline of the vanity, ceiling reflected in mirror, the open bathroom door and the few pictures against the wall.

"Are you okay?" he whispers against my hair as I feel him settle back down behind me from where he'd leant up, arm tightening around my waist as he shuffles impossibly closer. I nod, words dry on my tongue as my eyes fall shut and every aching, straining, protesting muscle and nerve and bone in my body relaxes. I allow myself to lean back against him, needing to feel his heat and his solidity to completely believe he's real.

But he is. Deliciously warm from sleep and so close I can feel each breath and beat of his heart against my spine. "I'm fine. Just a nightmare," I finally say, gliding one hand over his which rests around me, lacing our fingers together and pulling the cover right up to my chin.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" he asks gently, lips pressing dry against the bone at the tip of my spine. I shake my head, pulling him tighter, closer, despite there being no space left between us. "Kurt?" he speaks after a silence of rhythmic breathing.

I hum, smiling a hidden smile as I feel him shift and lean up behind me, soft breath tickling the downy hairs behind my ear.

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs against my skin, lips grazing gently as I shudder against him, turning to look over my shoulder. Our eyes lock, hazy with sleep and heat and love as a slow smile stretches across my face, mirroring his perfectly.

"Already?" I ask, lifting my head to look at the clock beside me.

"Just," he tells me, moving to lie on his back. I smile as I roll over, curling into his shape, lips against his skin beneath my body, supple and sleep warm.

"Merry Christmas," I say back, words almost silent as I breathe him in. He smells of the shampoo I bought him for 'unruly' hair and _my_ shower gel. He smells faintly of aftershave, a hint of sweat and then the rest is just _him;_unnameable and unplaceable but completely unforgettable. He smells masculine and I stifle a groan as I nuzzle my nose along his chest, up his neck, burrowing into the hollow beneath his ear as I try to commit his smell to memory. As if I haven't already.

Finally my eyes open and meet his, shining bright and honest in the dark, gleaming with the slither of moonlight through the window. He leans down, closing the gap, lips against lips as we both sigh and stretch. I lean up while he leans down and it hurts but the pain is _so good_as we hold still and silent and unbreakable in that moment. The only movement on Christmas morning is the press of our lips together as we move in a well practiced dance.

I push myself up further, an elbow above his shoulder as the kiss deepens, tongues pushing between lips, small moans meeting in the middle, silenced by the night and the thump of hearts. His hand is in my hair, soft but rough and perfect, one around my waist, down to the base of my spine as I tremble and fist his curls with my free hand, holding him still as I pull back and take a deep breath.

I rest our foreheads together, catching my breath, eyes closed as I lean with one arm against his bare chest, rising and falling and I can feel his eyes on me. I hear him lick his lips and I wonder if they taste of me. I inch forward, eyes still closed until I feel the swell of his lips against mine, and then I speak between breaths, "I want _this_… with _you_… _forever_," a secret between us before I kiss him, swallowing his gasp before he has a chance to speak.

My heart feels like a frenzied bird caught in the cage of my ribs, frantic for flight but contained as a second passes of him unmoving. And then he's kissing back, making my toes curl as his tongue presses against mine, teeth around my bottom lip, noses bumping as his nails claw at my skin and hold me tighter, closer, unmoving against him as his body literally quakes beneath me and then he pulls back, my lips dipping to follow his, scared of what he might say, trying to silence him the only way I know how.

But he ducks his head to the side and my face falls into the dent he's left in the pillow, and now I'm scared. Because I've spoken the truth and there's no taking it back and he's no longer kissing me and what if-

"Please," he swallows, "please tell me you mean that and aren't just saying it to get in my pants?" he asks quickly, voice steady but words shaky around the edges. Doubtful but hopeful. Eyes wide, hands tight, body fragile.

I lean up, looking at him properly, the line of his hair and the swoop of his brow. Bright searching eyes, trusting but a little untrusting as I smile, the bird in my chest thrashing for freedom as I manage to nod, "I mean it," I manage to whisper through a nervous laugh before I bury my head in his neck. Hiding myself from his eyes which search my soul for the truth, but I guard it away, I close and bolt the doors and hope to god that he has the key.

He's motionless beneath me. I can feel his heart heavy and uncontrollable beneath my palm, I can feel his muscles quiver with tension. And then he's sweeping away my worries, rolling me forcefully but with caressing hands onto my back as he takes my breath away. Literally and metaphorically as he sucks the air from my lungs and makes my head spin because he has the key; he's had the key all along. He has a million keys to unlock a million different parts of me, and I'm all his. Every part of me is his for the taking.

So he takes my heart and holds it in his hands and suddenly the bird is calm, scared and tentative as his lips press against mine, tongues sliding together, hands fisting my t-shirt, tugging it over my head as he arcs me into the mattress. He holds me down with all his weight, strong with thick muscles, heavy and unmoveable and solid on top of me as he speaks words which make my heart skip a beat, my hands tremor against his shoulders and my eyes widen, staring unblinkingly up. "Marry me?" he asks, barely a whisper against my lips as his eyes remain hopeful but scared on my own.

I feel my own eyes widen, his words sinking through my skin and into every cell of my body as I try desperately to comprehend them. But then I'm nodding, a second too soon and a second too late but I'm nodding and there are tears in my eyes and they're falling too quick down my face, disappearing into my hairline as my face breaks in two with the force of my smile. And he's smiling, watching with parted, wet lips as I nod beneath the solid weight of him. "Y-yes!" I finally stutter, "Yes! God yes!" I practically gasp before his hands are rough but _so_gentle against my cheeks and he's holding me still as he kisses me breathless.

And I'm soaring. Higher than the house and into the sky, beyond the clouds, lighter than air as I float, float, _float_away. Far away into a world of hot, tender skin and wide smiles, tears in eyes and hands on hips. The slide of cotton down thighs as I laugh, his face in my neck, words whispered between bodies. "I want this too," he keeps saying as his lips decorate every inch of my burning skin, "forever," he repeats as he thumbs beneath my eyes, his own tears dripping a tattoo against my chest. And then his fingers are brushing along my thighs and I'm literally shaking with happiness, his body leaning briefly over mine as my lips press against his chest.

My legs part on instinct as his hand settles between them, mouth murmuring words against my lips, words intertwined with other words, and sentences colliding and collapsing because there is just _so_much to be said but so much _more_ to be felt_. _And then he's inside of me, fingers slick and familiar and perfect and I can't remember how we got here. I can't remember the shedding of clothes or the slicking of fingers but I remember those words. I remember my promise. _Our promise._

As he crooks his fingers inside of me I keen, hips arcing high off the mattress as his lips draw the noise from within me and he's pulling back, sweat beading at his temple and talking again. I force myself to at least try to listen but his sentences mix and form nonsense but even his nonsense makes sense, and I know exactly what he's trying to say, "doesn't need to be… can be years… one day… properly… I just had to know… love you… since the start… you're beautiful… fuck… _Kurt!_"

"I know, I know," I try to tell him; "I love you, so much. Too much," I try to explain, but words don't mean anything anymore. Words aren't enough. Maybe they've never been enough. _Nothing is enough,_I think as his fingers slide from within me, lips dancing desperate against flushed skin and I'm literally shuddering with need. "_Please_," I beg, cock achingly hard against my stomach as he just stares down at me with wide disbelieving eyes, fingers stroking absently along my inner thigh, eyelashes clumping with tears and he's so beautiful.

I bring my shaking hands up to his face, holding him delicately, feeling his jaw work as he swallows and his cheeks change shape beneath my palm as he smiles. Corners of his eyes wrinkling as his they fall shut with a gentle laugh and the tears clinging to his longest lashes fall and mix with my sweat, dripping down my sternum. He leans forward, head buried in my shoulder, bracing himself against my chest as I kiss the taut column of his neck, stifling a moan as his hands grasp my thighs, sliding sweat streaked up to my knees, hooking them around his neck as he steadies his arms.

"Kurt," he sighs against my lips, my neck, my chest, one hand sliding down my body, fingers tickling and leaving in their wake a trail of goose bumps over my stomach. Gently tracing over my cock, my balls and I whimper, thrusting uselessly up into air, grazing my perineum before disappearing. My body shuddering as his lips press wet and swollen and sweet against mine.

Then I feel his cock press against my hole, blunt and hard and I gasp and whimper, forcing my hips from the bed, rubbing against him as with one hand he holds me down, the other lining himself up. He stills, just resting there before he nudges my face up with his head, making me look at him instead of our almost joined bodies. He's flushed, red painted high on his cheeks, rough patches down his neck from my slight stubble, lips swollen with words which aren't enough and eyes bright with tears.

"Forever?" he stutters, as if I haven't already agreed. But I nod, knowing he needs reassurance that this is real because so do I, because this is nothing like I imagined. Waking up from a nightmare on Christmas morning, my entire family in the house, his weight on top of me, two words whispered like a lifeline and I cling to them with both hands, with everything I have because they're everything I've ever needed or wanted and it _is_real. It has to be real because it's better than anything my mind could have created.

I nod, mouth opening to speak but unable to, breathing shallow and ragged, throat sore from crying and body aching and trembling to be touched. But he smiles, lips against lips, sharing breath and unspoken words as I feel him push gently, slowly sinking into me and drowning because neither of us can breathe. His hip bones meet my ass and I shudder with the feeling of stretched and open but completely _whole_and full and complete. His hands dance back up my chest, forearms either side of my head, caging us together before our lips drag apart, a gasp ripped from within me as I feel him pull back slightly before sinking achingly slowly back in, my spine arching and shuddering with waves of desire.

He whispers words against my skin, too soft for my ears but sinking into my bones as I quiver and moan silently beneath him, my hips rolling up to meet his, hands tight around his neck, over his shoulders, nails down his back as he moves within me. I can feel my body trembling, toes curled, ankles locked around his neck, thighs quivering, body rolling up, up further, deeper; desperate.

"Every second of forever," I manage to sigh against his collarbone before I gasp, eyes rolling back, head pressing into the pillow, mouth gaping as his cock presses repeatedly against my prostate, sending jerks and waves of hot liquid unfurling up my spine, fingertips tingling, nails branding him like hot irons as my spine unfolds and forms a bridge above the bed. Our chests press together and I don't miss his smirk and gentle moans of pleasure as he cants his hips over and over again, picking me apart at the seams as I crumble beneath him.

My legs begin to slip as they weaken; boneless around him as sweat slicked they drop from his shoulders. He lets them fall, arms moving quickly to hold my neck, one dipped to cradle my hip, the sudden change of angle making me keen and gasp and shudder, hips juddering as my legs regain strength and knot tight around his waist, cries of pleasure ripped from my chest as he kisses me, wet and hungry and delicious. Our teeth clink and noses bump and we both moan into one another, bodies fallen into rhythm, meeting in the middle with hard, solid thrusts and wet slaps of skin.

"Fuck Kurt," he groans into my mouth, his hand on my hip moving to close tight around my cock, smearing the beads of pre-come down the shaft before beginning to stroke in slow, steady movements. So different from the rapid grind of his hips that I can't take it, my body conflicted, to thrust into his hand or down on his cock I can't decide but it doesn't matter because he's everywhere. Solid and unmoving and perfect, teeth closing along my collarbone as my entire body shudders and I whimper, hands tightening and loosening around every part of him I can reach, lips swollen and wet with his saliva, every nerve screaming for attention.

He groans deep in his chest, the vibrations sparking shivers through my body where we touch as I jolt beneath him, and it's _too much._ I can't take it, hands and lips and limbs tangled and joint but not close enough as I feel my skin rip and my body fall apart beneath him. My bones are breaking and my heart is soaring, breath caught in my throat as my body tightens, every muscle taut and straining as I stretch off the mattress, his body heavy above me as for a second I'm frozen. Held up by my hips, legs around him as I split and break open and come, his hand moving over me as I streak our chests, my ass tightening around him as he continues to thrust deep within me, lips painting words against my body.

And then I slump all at once, eyes closed, arms falling from around him to lie stretched above my head, legs dropping to the bed as he slows, movements becoming gentle. Both his hands move up to my face, a finger along my lips which open beneath his touch, a whimper falling from within me as he continues to slide inside me, too sensitive but perfect. My eyes flutter open, met by shining hazel, honey and caramel and everything sweet in the world. He smiles. It's slow and languid and stretching across his face as I feel him begin to rebuild me. Stitching together my sides with gentle strokes and forcing my heart back into my chest, fluttering and completely his. My lips sealed with a kiss as with a few final sporadic but careful thrusts he comes deep inside of me, a moan of pleasure torn from his chest to settle against my lips.

He falls, broken but whole on top of me with a grunt, head heavy beside my thumping pulse as our chests swell with much needed air. We settle into the shape of one another, skin wet and hot and limbs weak; bodies sated. We're still for a long time, still joined at the hips, unmoving but for deep breaths and my hand moving to trail up and down the dip of his spine. Eventually I look down, I see his eyes closed, lips parted, heart bared and I smile, head falling back against the pillow with a smile. _Mine,_ I think, _all mine._

Eventually he stirs, groaning as he lifts his head, temple sticking slightly to my chest with sweat and I wince as he moves inside of me unintentionally. "Sorry," he says quickly, stilling against me, angling his head to look at me, chin against my chest as my half smiles, eyelids heavy, hair tangled and wild.

"S'okay," I say, moving a hand to card through his sticky curls. He hums against my chest, eyes drifting shut again.

"I feel asleep a little there," he finally says through a laugh.

I snort quietly, "I noticed," I tell him, unable to wipe the wide grin from my face as I stare into his face.

"I'm gunna have to…" he trails off, manoeuvring his arms to steady himself as he shoots me an apologetic look.

I flinch again, biting my lip before nodding, "I know, it's okay," I tell him, screwing my eyes shut as his weight lifts from on top of me, cock sliding out with a tinge of oversensitivity and pain, leaving me empty and my skin prickling with cold.

But then he's back on top of me, warm and still a little sweaty, "I'm sorry," he tells me again, pressing soft kisses against drying skin.

I just hum in response, stretching my arms out either side of me, feeling the bones crack before wrapping them around him, rolling us to one side, face to face and heart to heart as we both smile and shuffle into the same space.

"So…" I begin eyes wide as I watch his open, questioning as one hand rises to curl around my neck, stroking behind my ear.

"So…" he replies, causing me to roll my eyes and push at him playfully. He laughs, smiling so wide his gums show as he fights back, tangling his limbs around me and holding us together. "So what?" he finally asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"You asked me to marry you," I say, barely louder than a whisper as I swallow and force myself to look into his eyes

He smiles a little, confusion creasing his brow before speaking, "I'm aware," he says, voice bursting with happiness.

I push at him again, pinching the skin of his waist beneath my hand and making him jolt, "stop being a dick and talk to me properly," I say as he stifles a laugh and rubs at his skin.

"I am!" he protests, perpetual grin plastered across his face, eyes shining bright.

"Well…" I take a breath, "did you mean it?" I manage to ask, all playfulness gone from my voice, replaced by badly hidden doubt.

His eyes widen instantly, smile dropping, mouth opening in shock, "w_hat?_" he asks, eyes darting between mine frantically. "Yes! Of course I meant it!" he pulls back slightly, hands loosening around me before he speaks, voice wounded and pained, "W-why? Didn't you mean it when you said…" he trails off helplessly.

"Of course I did!" I instantly reassure him, "I just… wanted to make sure," I tell him, pulling him back against me as his body slumps with relief.

I feel him relax with a sigh, "you idiot!" he chastises, simultaneously pushing me away and pulling me against him. "You scared me," he tells me, shaking his head. I smile a little and am relieved when he smiles back, leaning forward he presses his lips to mine, bittersweet with evaporating fear and returning laughter. "I don't just propose to anyone y'know," he finally laughs again, pulling back to stare at me for a long moment. "I'll do it properly one day," he finally says when I shuffle against him, my eyes falling closed against his neck.

"What properly?" I ask against his sternum, nose nuzzling into his throat, inhaling that familiar smell.

"The proposal," he whispers above me, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"That wasn't a proper proposal?" I ask confused.

"No no, it was! I just… you deserve something perfect," he promises, pressing a kiss to my hair beneath his lips, lingering there a moment longer I hear as he inhales, humming gently with pleasure.

"That _was_ perfect," I assure him, unable to imagine a more perfect proposal.

I feel him shake his head, one leg pressing between mine, forcing mine over his, hooking around him. "It wasn't. But it will be," I hear the smile in his voice and roll my eyes.

"Blaine, seriously… it was perfect." I lean back to look up at him, "you don't have to do anything," I try to tell him, rubbing my palm up and down his side, around his back and along the curve of his spine.

He's shaking his head again, eyes still closed as he speaks the thoughts rushing through his mind "…I didn't even have a ring, or get down on one knee…"

I silence him with a kiss, revelling in his little jolt of shock before he sinks into me, lips firm and unrelenting against mine. "I don't need those things," I say as I pull back, his eyes flickering open, hazy with sleep and warmth and love, "just you," I tell him truthfully.

He hums again, leaning forward to rub our noses together, "we'll see," he says, eyes closing.

"_Blaine!_" I groan, elongating the syllable as I kick at his shin beneath swathes of fabric. I feel him laugh, cradling my head in his hands as he presses closer.

"Shh, go sleep, Ava will be up in a couple of hours," he mouths the words against my neck as I shiver, giving up fighting because I've never been able to stop him when he gets an idea stuck in his head.

The night is suddenly thick around us. Dark and quiet. Cold outside our bed and the warmth of each others arms. I let my mind wander momentarily, imagining all the ways he might decide to propose 'properly', my mind working over all the ways I've imagined doing it myself. Flowers and dinners and sunsets, words and speeches and unavoidable clichés, promises and tears and smiles. Every imaginable situation dulls in comparison to tonight though; real and honest and everything you can't possibly plan in advance.

I smile into the darkness of morning and speak three words I can't imagine ever not being true, "I love you."

"I love you too," he instantly replies, surprising me because I'd thought he'd be asleep. "Even though you won't let me get down on one knee and serenade you," he adds with a smirk against my neck, a kiss against my pulse, a promise against my heart.

"Shut up," I tell him, unable to wipe the smile off my face as I fall into a dreamless sleep, because everything I've ever dreamt of is now reality.

/

Our bedroom door bangs open, swinging on its hinges, squeaking in the night before a voice screams, "daddy!" and I bolt upright, pulling the covers up my chest despite already being covered. My eyes blink open, staring into darkness, fuzzy with sleep and confusion as Blaine wakes beside me, a hand on my thigh, reassuring as I search the room for the voice.

"I'm here Av," he mumbles, voice gruff and deep as my mind hurries to catch up with my body.

"_He's been!_" She practically screams and I wince, her voice high pitched and excited, tiny silhouette just visible in the doorway where she's literally bouncing with excitement.

"What is she talking about?" I ask, turning to Blaine who's sitting up beside me, stretching his back and rubbing at his eyes.

He turns to stare at me, brow furrowed before he speaks, "Santa… duh!" he snorts, laughing when I groan and fall back heavy against the mattress, uncomfortably aware of my come smeared chest, the slight damp of the bed sheets and the wetness between my thighs.

"_Get up!_" She yells, impatient and shockingly loud for a person of her size. Feet stomping on the floor as she jumps from one leg to the other.

"We are!" Blaine shouts back with laughter in his voice, and I can't help but groan, all too familiar with the shouting matches him and Ava have before they both burst into giggles. I try to stay as far away as possible when that happens. "Go and wake Finn!" He tells her, although I doubt anyone in the house is still asleep.

"Oh my god!" She suddenly exclaims, her body stilling with shock, "I bet Finn doesn't know Santa's been yet! He'll be so excited," she squeals as she bolts from our doorway, foot steps heavy in the otherwise silent house as she flies down the hall.

Blaine's laughing when he turns to face me, spread out on my back, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. I peer at him through my fingers, grinning when he leans over me, "hey fiancé," he says against my lips, a spark of electricity racing up my spine and through every nerve of my body as I smile into the kiss.

"I like the sound of that," I say when he finally pulls away, hearing in the distance a deep laugh, _Finn,_ followed by a scream of shock, _Rachel._

"It's four in the god damn morning, _what is going on!_" I then hear my Dad's voice shouting from his and Carole's room, no doubt confused, not having had a child in the house for Christmas since I was young.

"Burt!" I hear Ava scream, followed by the bang of another door and Carole's laughter drifting through the house.

Blaine and I exchange smiles before I pull him back down, angled strangely our lips meet and I lick between them, wanting to taste him in my mouth later today. Eventually he pulls back, groaning at the ache in his back, swinging his legs off the bed I reach a hand up and run it down the nodules of his spine. He hums beneath my palm.

"Do you mind if we don't mention this to dad and Carole, not just yet anyway?" I ask nervously.

His head turns slightly, leaning back into the palm of my hand as my fingers tangle in his hair, "course not," he hums. "I sort of guessed you wouldn't want to," he then says.

Guilt washes through me, "No! It's not that, it's just-" I try to assure him before he turns smiling to face me.

"I know Kurt, I get it. They'll think it's too soon and all the usual stuff parents say," he rolls his eyes with a laugh. I nod, glad he understands, "and anyway, I like it being our secret for a while," he tells me, turning around and taking my face in his hand. "Plus… if they don't know I have an excuse to do it again properly," he teases.

I laugh as I nuzzle into his palm against my cheek, "you're impossible," I tell him, smiling before he leans down and presses his lips against mine, gentle and chaste and not nearly enough. "And anyway," I say as he pulls back, "maybe _I'll_propose before you get the chance," I tease.

He chuckles, shrugging a little, whispering a "maybe," through his smile.

We stare at each other for a second, momentarily lost before I force myself back to reality. "I need to shower," I say, grimacing when I move against the sheets, "will I have time before Ava drags us all down?"

"If you hurry," he says, glancing absently towards the door where the gentle tinkle of Ava's laughter is floating through the air.

I reluctantly sit up and slide over next to him; slipping an arm around his waist I press a kiss below his ear. His face scrunches with a smile as my fingers tickle over his side before he turns and captures my lips in his. I laugh as I pull back, "are you going to join me?" I ask, kissing his shoulder.

"I think when your entire family comes looking for us and we're both in the shower we might be subjected to another conversation about 'house rules', which is something I'm sure we'd both rather avoid," he says through a laugh, referring to the speech my Dad had given us years ago, the first night Blaine stayed the night, on the couch of course. Or at least that's what we lead him to believe.

I laugh against his skin, warm beneath my face, "but you're covered in come," I tease, unable to resist a smile at his slightly disgusted face as he runs a finger absently over his chest.

I stand, my spine cracking slightly before making for the bathroom. As I walk by he slaps my bare ass, making me jump, my hand automatically shooting round to rub the reddened skin, frowning at him over my shoulder. "Love you," he says, eyes twinkling in the dim light, smile unmoving from his face.

"Fuck off," I call over my shoulder as I close the bathroom door behind me, I hear him practically roar with laughter as I turn the light on. Blinking in the too bright light I flick the shower on, turning the temperature a little higher before briefly glancing at myself in the mirror. My left clavicle is bruised and bitten blue and black, neck a little red from Blaine's stubble, the smile in my eyes unmissable.

I shower quickly, foregoing most my routine in the knowledge of just how impatient Ava can get and before long I'm shuffling into the bedroom. I notice immediately that the entire house is wide awake now. I can smell coffee in the air, my mouth watering as it infests my nose. I can hear laughter and voices, the stereo in the background playing generic Christmas music. I pull a jumper over my bare skin, grateful that it covers my bruised collarbone and too lazy to find a shirt, relatively loose jeans adorn my legs before I pad bare foot down the stairs, bags of presents in my hands as I listen for the lilt of Blaine's voice.

I wander into the living room, kicking my dad's feet off the coffee table and getting a grumble in response. I drop the bags by the sofa where Rachel is curled in a ball, dark hair loose and tangled around her head. I smile at her half sleeping form before following the sound of Ava's laughter. I find them in the kitchen. Blaine's dressed in a loose t-shirt and equally loose jeans, hair a little wet, probably having showered quickly in the family bathroom. Ava's on his hip as he talks to Carole who's preparing coffee, Finn rummaging in the fridge, both still in their pyjamas, hair wild and eyes slow from sleep. "Hi," I say as I walk in, instantly drawn to Blaine, Ava squirming in his arms towards me.

"Did you see all the presents Santa brought?" she asks, reaching towards me with eager little hands. I take her from Blaine, nodding and assuring her that I had.

Blaine takes a step closer to me, hand moving to rest on the small of my back, pressing warmth against my skin even through my clothing. "You boys go and sit down, make sure Burt's not fallen asleep again," Carole tells us with a fond smile. We try, and fail, to hide our grins when we look at one another, turning to leave the room we hear her speak again, "not you Finn, you're helping me," she tells her son. We hear him groan as the fridge door falls shut.

We walk together into the living room, Blaine moving to take a seat on the sofa beside Rachel while I shake my Dad awake again in his chair. He grumbles as he wakes up, arms reaching to push me away but missing, making Ava giggle in my arms, and suddenly I have an idea. I drop her onto him, a mess of limbs and giggling child onto his lap and he huffs, eyes bolting open as his arms grasp her on instinct. She's laughing manically as he stares for a moment before his face splits into a smile, his hands finding her tummy and tickling her breathless.

I smile and walk over to Blaine, perching myself on the arm rest beside him, pushing my cold, bare feet between and beneath his thighs, flexing my toes against the roughness of the denim. I lean side ways against the back of the sofa, arm falling behind Blaine's head, leaning down I rest my face against my bicep as my free hand falls to curl over his shoulder closest to me. He tilts his head the smallest amount and smiles at me out of the corner of his eye, one hand rising to curl around my calf, fingers stroking down my shin.

After a minute Finn and Carole walk in, steaming cups in their hands. Rachel stirs at the delicious smell of coffee and pushes herself up, straightening in the middle of the sofa next to Blaine, allowing Finn to hand her a cup before he falls into the space next to her, his arm instantly around her as she snuggles against him. Her feet rise onto the sofa and rest against Blaine's thigh but neither seem to notice. Then Carole hands us both a cup, both thanking her before taking a sip of our drinks.

We both instantly grimace, mine far too bitter and his far too sweet as we try to rub the taste from our tongues against the roofs of our mouths. We then look into our cups, almost in unison before our eyes meet and we smile a little, switching cups with a shared laugh and the graze of drink warmed fingertips. We each take a more tentative sip of our new drinks, and both hum in contentment, his black and bitter while mines milky and sweet.

Eventually everyone begins to wake up properly, the caffeine stirring within us until we're all wide eyed and smiling, no longer flinching when Ava talks a little too loud and her cries of excitement no longer grate inside our skulls.

We exchange presents with snorts of laughter and the occasional eye roll, Ava being used as a courier between adults, all too lazy to hand out our own. But she accepts the job with enthusiasm and gleefully reads the labels of each gift, handing them out with hands practically shaking from excitement, squealing when she comes across one with her own name.

Each time she gets a present of her own she falls to the floor in a heap wherever she's standing, legs folding beneath her, hands running desperately over it, shaking it delicately beside her ear with closed eyes as if the gift itself will reveal it's secrets. She then tears the smallest rip at a corner, peering beneath the paper, tongue between her lips in concentration before interrupting whatever snippet of conversation's filling the room with a cry of joy, followed by the frantic, frenzied ripping of paper. A scream of happiness and a wide eyed, gummy smile for whomever the current gift in her hands is from, a rushed 'thank you' and a wet kiss on their cheek. The sleeves of her slightly too big pyjama top fall over her hands repeatedly, each time being pushed up to her elbows as her eyes glow in the light of the Christmas tree.

We hadn't been able to bring all her presents here, the bigger ones like her bike and mini kitchen are still wrapped up in my spare room for when we get home. But the lack of those had quickly been replaced with presents from my parents, as well as Rachel and Finn surprisingly. Neither I nor Blaine had anticipated just how many presents the only child in a house of adults would get on Christmas day, both exchanging worried smiles at how we're supposed to get it all back to England.

_But that's a problem for later_, I think, pushing it to the back of my mind as my face begins to ache with how wide I'm smiling. My insides swell with happiness as I take in the people in front of me, the people I love most in the world. Outside our window the morning is cold, dark and barren, but inside the sound of laughter and familiar voices fills the air, the smell of food already in the oven and Blaine's palm warm beneath the fabric of my jumper, resting heavy on the base of my spine.

I can honestly say I've never felt so loved.

"Kurt!" Finn calls from across the couch, throwing a thin, rectangular present towards me. It hits me square in the chest, my free hand instinctively coming up to catch it flush against myself, my other hand remaining against the back of Blaine's neck, fingers tangled loosely in his hair and tracing patterns along the exposed skin of his shoulders absently.

"What's this?" I ask dumbfounded, turning the paper thin rectangle in my hands, brow furrowed.

"It's a present you idiot, for Christmas," Finn replies through a deep laugh.

I respond with a scowl, "I know _that_!" I say indignantly, earning a giggle from Rachel, "it's just not very… _conventionally_present like," I try to explain, offering it to Blaine to examine.

"Well we apologies for not making it more '_conventionally present like_'," Finn manages through another deep laugh and a shake of his head, the grin on his face undeniably pleased with himself.

"Well what is it then?" I ask, rolling my eyes at his childishness, realising that the room is now quiet but for our bickering and the soft music in the background.

"Why don't you _open_it and find out?" he tells me, still smiling wide.

"It's for you and Blaine," Rachel adds with a grin as large as her husbands as I take it from my boyfriend, _fiancé,_who's head snaps round in surprise.

"For me too?" he asks, voice confused but unmistakably happy. "But you already got us both presents," he frowns, cocking his head adorably to the side.

"Are we not allowed to get you more than one present? Why're you both so surprised?" Finn's laughing but sounds genuinely confused, looking over at Burt as if for an explanation of our strange behaviour. But my dad just shrugs his shoulders, motioning for me to open it.

"Alright," I say, "calm yourself," I tease Finn who laughs again; catching my eye with a familiar half smile. I reluctantly remove my hand from Blaine's hair to run a finger under one of the taped down edges. Ava's also become unusually silent, suddenly appearing at the edge of the sofa, climbing onto Blaine's lap, an arm around my leg to steady herself before peering over my shoulder as I pull paper from within wrapping paper.

My breath catches in my throat, mouth gaping, eyes widening as I slid the tickets the final few inches from the thin paper, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor with the rest. "What is it?" Blaine asks, unable to see from where he's seated beneath but in front of me.

But I don't reply, I just look up at Finn and Rachel, a small disbelieving smile stretching across my face, "you bought us…" I trail off; glancing from one to the other in search of answers they look only too willing to give. They're both beaming, laughing and catching each others eye before Rachel's nodding, shaking a little with excitement.

"Only if you want to… I mean, we got them for the summer because of term times and stuff…" she trails off with a shrug of her small frame.

Blaine's still completely clueless, glancing with wide eyes from me to the couple on the other side of the couch, Ava staring over my shoulder but completely baffled by the three pieces of paper. "What is it Kurt?" Blain finally asks, trying to stretch to see the paper in my hands.

I hold them out to him, "tickets," I say, "plane tickets to Chicago in the summer," I manage through a laugh, smile bursting over my face as floods of love wash through me. His eyebrows shoot up, eyes darting to Finn and Rachel who're still beaming beside him before taking the tickets from me, laughing quietly before looking back up at me, his wide smile mirroring mine. "Guys…" I say through my smile, elongating the word, preparing myself to thank them profusely before telling them they shouldn't have, trying to force them to get their money back, insisting we pay for our own flights.

But Rachel's just shaking her head and sitting up a little straighter, "I know what you're going to say Kurt so I'm going to stop you now," she says promptly, holding up a finger to silence me. I see out of my peripheral vision as Blaine hands the tickets to Ava with words of care, before she disappears, running over to Burt and Carole who've asked to see. "Now that me and Finn and settled in the city of our dreams," I don't mention her previous dreams of New York, only too familiar with her penchant for dramatics, "we would be honoured if you and Blaine, and Ava of course," she says pointedly, glancing over at the young girl who is only just beginning to realise what those papers mean, "would come and spend some of our first summer with us?"

I'm shaking my head and laughing, glancing covertly at Blaine who is staring shocked between Finn and Rachel. "You really shouldn't have," I say, "we-" I begin before she predictably speaks over me.

"Well it's too late. We have, and the tickets are non-refundable so really it would just be an _awful_waste of money if you were to refuse and we both think that-" now it's my turn to cut her off.

"Fine!" I shout over her, hands rising in defeat, silencing her immediately. Her eyebrows raise, expression expectant as her lips freeze around her words. "Of course we'll come," I finally say.

She squeals in excitement, pushing herself into a kneeling position and stretching towards me as I simultaneously lean over Blaine. We meet in the middle with shared smiles and laughter, but my knees fall into the dent where the cushions meet in the middle of the sofa. It sinks further than I expect, my hand not finding purchase against the back rest and it's too late when I fall slightly, my ankles caught awkwardly between Blaine's legs. His hands fly out too late to steady me as Rachel's arms close around me in a hug, my body falling further than anticipated, face landing flush against Rachel's boobs.

I'm instantly laughing into the fabric of her pyjama as her arms close around me, still hugging me, my hands flailing for something to push myself up on before they settle on her thighs. And then suddenly there's laughter around us, Finn's loud and guffawing, choking on the drink he was sipping as mine escalates into uncontrollable laughter and Blaine chuckles behind me. And then Rachel's laughing above me, her delicate hands coming to cup my face still buried in her chest, the laughter rippling through my body making it near impossible for me to move.

She gently pulls my face away from her chest, and I can feel tears of laughter in my eyes as she pulls me into a proper hug, one of my hands gripping her thigh maybe a little too tightly before I manage to steady myself with one curled around the back rest, Blaine moving to free my ankles. Finn's still choking behind her, fresh peels of laughter bursting from within him when he catches my eyes and slightly dazed expression.

"Well that was a whole new experience," I say through renewed laughter, watching Finn thump his fist against his chest as he continues to cough a little. I hear my Dad snort in agreement in the background, but out of the corner of my eye I see him grinning wider than the sun. "But thank you Rachel, thank you both," I say, finally thanking them for their present.

"You're more than welcome," Rachel assures me as she pulls back, "but we'll have none of that funny business in Chicago please," she teases, waggling a finger at me and playfully pushing me away. "I'll have you know I'm a happily married woman," she tells me in mock seriousness as she settles back down against Finn, who's finally been able to stop coughing, although gentle laughter still falls from his lips every time his eyes fall on me.

"I promise I will try to control the raging heterosexual within me," I joke back, shuffling back against Blaine, his hands strong against my sides as I settle back down on the arm rest, one hand skirting back beneath the hem of my jumper as mine automatically falls against his neck. "And I'll have _you_know that I'm a happily e-relationshiped man," I say back as casually as I can, my heart skipping a beat at the secret that just almost slipped from my lips.

But no one seems to notice as more laughter fills the room, intercepted by a snort from Finn, no doubt reliving the almost molestation of his wife by his brother. As conversation falls back into rhythm and present opening resumes, Blaine moves his hand around to my waist and pinches the skin a little. Not enough to hurt, just enough to get my attention as I turn to face him, mouthing '_sorry_' in response to his questioning eyes, but he just shakes his head and smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to my jean clad knee.

The rest of the day passes blissfully drama free and happily. The house returns to some level of normalcy; wrapping paper is cleared away, clothes changed, the table set for dinner, everyone put to work while Ava weaves excitedly in and out of bodies, bashing shins and knees with whatever toy she's currently carting around. And there are toys literally _everywhere_. In true Ava fashion she's opened every single box and played with each toy for a matter of minutes before moving onto the next. She also appears to be in a constant state of undress, switching between sparkly new dresses and fluffy jumpers before anyone can stop her.

So it's with a startled gasp that I yank the marker pens out of her hand when I walk into the living room, her new white Armani dress only centimetres from destruction, "Ava, no!" I shout, maybe a little too loudly. Her wide, confused eyes find mine as I recap the pen in my hand, eyes scanning the satin and velvet for marks. She pouts a little, lip quivering and my heart breaks, "I'm sorry baby," I groan, falling to the floor to kneel beside her, tucking a curl behind her ear. "But you can't play with pens or paints when you're wearing this dress, okay?" I ask.

She sniffles a little, blinking back tears before nodding, "Okay Kurty, I won't play no more," she says before swallowing.

"No, Av, of course you can still _play_!" I tell her, wondering absently where Blaine is because he'd no exactly how to deal with her quickly reddening eyes and slumped shoulders. "Just- you just can't in this dress. This is for going to parties in and for looking beautiful, not for playing with your whiteboard," I try to explain, noticing the whiteboard easel she's dragged out its box.

"M'kay," she sighs little, looking down at the white fabric with a lost look in her eyes.

"Here, how about you change back into these," I say, holding up the t-shirt and jeans she'd slung in a pile, "and then we can do some drawing, yeah?" She looks up at me out of the corner of her eye, hesitant and maybe a little suspicious before shrugging, lip caught between her teeth. "Okay?" I ask, wanting to make sure.

She turns to face me properly then, lifting her arms above her head with a half smile. I grin back, holding the hem of the dress and pulling it swiftly over her head, the sick feeling in my stomach receding now she's smiling again. I quickly fold the dress and put it out of her reach before redressing her. I lean around her to prop up the whiteboard, grabbing the other pens before kneeling behind her. She shuffles until her back is flush with my chest, turning she smiles over her shoulder at me, taking the red pen from my hand. "Sorry Kurty," she says with a flutter of her long eyelashes.

"It's fine Av, you didn't know," I assure her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, fingers tickling her stomach. She giggles, wriggling in my arms before I release her. She begins doodling absently, something that might be a tree and what looks like a green giraffe. I cross my legs and lean back on my hands behind her, listening as she hums under her breath and watching her tiny hands hold tight to the pens.

After a few minutes I hear the door groan behind us, turning I smile at Blaine as he walks silently into the room. He greets Ava with a fond smile and a kiss before settling quickly behind me, his back against the sofa as he straightens his legs and drags me into the space there, arms around my waist and a kiss behind my ear.

"Where've you been?" I ask, folding my legs beneath myself before scooting and settling into his familiar shape.

"Just around," I feel him shrug, fingers touching the delicate skin of my inner elbow, trailing down the blue veins before skimming round to the backs of my hands. He glides his fingers between mine before locking both our arms around my waist. I feel his chin rest against my shoulder, eyelashes tickling my neck when he blinks, a sigh ghosting beneath my shirt.

"Well, lucky I was here," I say, "Ava was just about to marker pen her dress," I nod towards the folded white bundle and feel his lips bow into a smile against my skin.

"I keep telling you not to buy designer clothes for a four year old," he teases, and I can feel the vibrations of his laughter against my back. I turn to look over my shoulder, ready to reply when I'm interrupted by Ava's pleading voice.

"Kurty, please can you help me? My tree has got too bushy and my birds don't like it, that one especially," her head is cocked adorably to the side as she points to a bird with a comically exaggerated sad face. I control my laughter before speaking.

"Course," I smile, scrambling back up onto my knees and over to her. I kneel behind her, taking her hand in mine, unable to stop myself laughing at the state of her ink splotched hands and arms.

We stay like this for a few minutes, her hand delicate beneath my own and so tiny that I worry I'll break it if I hold too tight. She laughs when I slip and my palm gets smeared with green, then screams when I move to wipe it on her face. Eventually though I feel a hand tugging on the back of my shirt, accompanied by a short whine.

I turn, glancing over my shoulder and rolling my eyes as Blaine stretches towards me, one hand fisting the back of my clothes while his feet try desperately to hook around my thighs. His eyes are wide, pleading and warm and I can't help but chuckle. "It's like having two kids," I joke as Ava takes the pen from me and I finally allow him to pull me back flush against him.

He hums a little into my neck as he realigns us together, taking my hands in his and tilting them palm upwards. I'm not really paying attention, more focused on Ava's careful drawing as he idly fiddles with my hands in his.

I feel him turning them in his own, the gentle sweep of his thumbs over my knuckles and the shiver inducingly light press along the bones. His thumb and middle finger tightening briefly around my wrists before dropping them to my lap. I don't respond to these movements, or the increased press of our bodies together as he leans forward, nor do I hear the pop as he uncaps a dark blue marker.

I'm vaguely aware of him lifting my left hand in his, turning it palm down, spreading my fingers a little before I glance down. Just in time to notice the marker pen held steady, the gentle warmth of his hand as he holds mine still, his stilted breath in my ear.

"Blaine!" I screech his name, jerking my hand away but it's too late, or maybe he's just too fast and I'm too slow, or maybe I don't really want to stop it because as my hand slides from within his and his laughter rests heavy against my skin I can't help my heart pounding a little faster in my chest as I look at my left hand. A simple, thick navy line pressed dark and neat above the knuckle of my ring finger, smudged in one corner from my jolt but unmissable.

He's still laughing, chest rocking against my spine as I rub at the unmoving blue line feverishly. "I cannot believe you!" I growl, pressing my tongue against it before rubbing again.

"It's just a little line Kurt," he finally says, hooking his chin over my shoulder and running a thumb over the irremovable line, the skin around it now red. "I just wondered what it'd look like," he tells me when I turn to look at him.

But his smile is so wide and honest and open, his happiness unmistakable as he gazes at my ring finger that I just can't force myself to remain angry. So instead I sigh, tilting my head to rest cheek to cheek with him, his eyelashes tickling where they sit beside my own. "And when my dad sees it?"

He snorts beside me. "He won't see it," he assures me, "and even if he does he won't think anything of it," he adds, "and even if he _does_ there is no _way_he would assume the truth," he tacks on the end, arms tightening around my waist as I allow my hand to fall against my lap, my eyes unable to stop staring at that simple line.

"It'll take _days_to wash off," I complain half heartedly, over the initial shock and instead just trying to make him feel guilty.

"Well the real ones a lot more permanent," he instantly replies with a chuckle and a wet kiss against my neck.

"You're awful," I reply, turning away so that he doesn't see my face splitting grin as floods of _forever_wash over me. But he _knows,_he always knows when I'm grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. So instead I ball my left hand into a fist and punch him hard in the thigh, making him laugh even harder, deep in his chest as it fills the room, fills my heart.

/

Not long later dinner is served with _almost_no accidents, Finn receiving mild burns after trying to steal a roast potato fresh from the oven, fingertips burning before he throws it stupidly into the sink. It lands with a splash, water decorating the window and surrounding surfaces. Everyone's eyes move to focus on him, all in various states of disbelief and utter shock, even Ava looks mildly confused as silence settles over our family for once.

"I didn't think they'd be that hot," he says in his own defence, looking from one expression of shock to the next before examining his fingers closely.

I catch Blaine's eye and try not to laugh too loudly at his slightly gaping mouth and raised eyebrow, removing myself to the dining room just in time to muffle my laughter.

Finn is then forced to eat his dinner with a plaster on the tip of each finger, even those he didn't burn, under Ava's carefully advice; earning a stern look from her each time he makes to remove one.

So dinner is eaten and crackers are pulled. Paper hats adorned, begrudgingly on my part as Finn holds my hands by my side and Blaine places it atop my hair with an eye crinkling grin and a kiss to my nose. Bad jokes are told, most of which Finn, and occasionally my dad, find hilarious and which have to explained to Ava. At one point Carole laughs so hard she dribbles wine and stains the tablecloth a dirty ruby red, and Ava's hair dangles in her gravy for god knows how long before Rachel sees and ties it back for her with a sparkly hair band, promising she'll wash it later for her.

At one point, in between the laughter and the teasing and the rolls of eyes, my dad takes a hold of my wrist as I put down my glass, making me jump a little as I turn to face him, our exchange lost among the much louder conversation for everyone else.

"I'm so happy for you Kurt," he says after a moment, quiet enough to not draw attention to us. I see his eyes dart briefly to Blaine beside me, "for both of you," he adds before refocusing on me, a glimmer in his eyes which could just be the lights.

My eyebrows arc in surprise before a slow, unstoppable smile spreads across my face, the warmth of Blaine's palm against mine beneath the table rushing through me as I feel red stain my cheeks, "I'm happy for us too," I manage through a nervous laugh, swallowing the rising lump in my throat.

We stare at each other for a second, just smiling before I look away with another stilted laugh. "Love you son," he then says, squeezing my arm slightly before releasing me.

I turn to face him, smiling back, "love you too dad," I manage, biting my lip and subconsciously squeezing the hand heavy in my own, my hand tattooed with my future.

For the most part I try to keep my left hand out of sight. I doubt anyone would notice, and like Blaine had said, even if they did I doubt they'd think anything of it. But there's still a part of me that worries, maybe unnecessarily, about how my dad would react, especially when the 'real' proposal could be years from now. The navy line represents more the inevitability of us one day getting married, not the pending date.

That being said Blaine's right hand remains warm and heavy on my knee for most of the meal, only lifting when really necessary, occasionally lacing with my left, his fingers running, probably subconsciously, along the knuckle which he's marked. A strange chill washes over me each time his palm lifts from my own and I shiver involuntarily, and then before I know it he's back, fingers familiar and rough and gentle in my own, stealing a sideways glance with his honey-gold eyes.

I watch him conspicuously out of the corner of my eye for the rest of dinner, watching his face scrunch with a smile, listening to the thrum of his laughter and feeling his pulse beat steady beneath my fingertips as they curl around his wrist. And I hold on. I hold on tight and imagine a Christmas ten years from now, the same hand laced with mine, the same family and the same indescribable happiness.

The only difference being two matching gold bands, by then probably long forgotten in the rush of life and the regularity of it. Old news maybe, but at this moment, picturing _that_ future, I can't imagine anything better to look forward to.


	39. Chapter XXXIX

**A/N: The words in italics are song lyrics, and the song used is 'I Would Do Anything For You' by Foster the People. I greatly recommend listening to it during that part so you can fully appreciate the moment.**

Saturday 28th December 2019

**Kurt**

I shiver as I push the door closed gently, the last of the cold air sweeping over me as I block out the pressing darkness.

"How was it?" a voice whispers from the top of the stairs. I finish locking the front door and turn, eyes finding the silhouette of my dad. I shrug, shaking my head a little.

I hear him huff, see in the light from the kitchen as his hand tightens against the wooden banister, can almost taste his disgust in the thick night air. "I'll tell you about it in the morning," I promise, kicking my shoes off with little care.

"Where is he?" he asks, leaning over the railing to glance through the half open kitchen door, unable to see Blaine's slumped figure from where he's stood.

"He's in there. I took Ava up, she was asleep but would you just check she's okay for me?" I ask, shrugging off my jacket and hanging it up.

He nods, chancing another look into the kitchen before sighing heavily. "G'night Kurt," he then says, turning on his heel and walking surprisingly quietly up the few steps he's descended.

"Night dad," I whisper back, shooting him a grateful smile which I'm not sure he sees.

I then rub a palm over my face, scrape my hair back and roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the ache that's built up throughout dinner with Blaine's parents. Taking a deep breath I cross the hall and slide silently into the kitchen, blinking in the harsher lighting a few times before crossing the short distance to where Blaine is sat at the breakfast bar.

He's slumped, head pillowed in his arms, a worryingly depleted, and arguably stolen, bottle of amber liquid lying open with one hand curled loosely around the base. I lift it easily from his grip, screwing back on the lid before placing it one the opposite counter, out of arms reach, before moving back to his side.

"Blaine?" I say tentatively, reaching out to stroke a hand down his spine, feeling the muscles in his back shift beneath my palm and his thin shirt as he groans and sits up.

His movements are sluggish and slow, head rolling slightly as he tries to find me, eyes glazed with sleep and drink and sadness, irises golden like the alcohol rushing through his veins, flooding out so many traces of the man I adore. "Kurt?" his voice is hollow and pleading, eyes searching mine waveringly as a hand reaches blindly towards me.

"Hey, I'm here," I assure him, stepping closer to press my palm heavier along his back, rubbing small circles while the other comes up to cup his jaw, holding his face still as he stares at me.

"Hey," he says after a second, turning on his stool to face me, one arm steadying against the counter while the other reaches out, resting cold and a little too tight around my waist, dragging me between his knees as his face presses into my chest.

I wind both my arms around him, leaning down awkwardly to press a kiss to his mop of hair, "I'm here Blaine," I assure him again, tracing irregular patterns along his skin as his breath seeps warm and stilted through my shirt.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, sighing stutteringly before leaning back to look up at me. His eyes are bloodshot, face sallow and lips turned down in a perpetual frown.

"What for?" I ask shocked, unwilling to loosen my grip around him.

"Them," he says coldly, eyes flaring with anger before falling back to misery. "How they act, what they say, what they _think,_" he spits the words as his eyes move untrained over my shoulder.

"Hey hey, that's not your fault, _they're_not your fault," I try to laugh, "they're just ignorant and- and they don't deserve you, or Ava," I attempt to reassure him, carding a hand through his loose curls, longer than usual and falling messily over his ears. "Are you listening?" I ask.

He nods against my sternum, hands loosening a little around me, palms spreading and dipping beneath the fabric of my untucked shirt, skirting cold and delicate halfway up my spine to hold me closer. "Mmm," he hums as his lips press unmoving against my chest, "you're so warm," he says under his breath, pressing his nose harder against me before inhaling deeply.

"M'kay baby," I sigh, rubbing his back soothingly, holding back the anger that's threatening to swell like a balloon inside my chest as I struggle to force the night's events to the back of my mind.

I hold back the images on his parent's faces, the distrust and unhidden disgust and the sickly sweet smiles they saved for Ava. I don't dwell on the barely four words they spoke to me all night or the snort of laughter from Mr. Anderson when Blaine tried to tell them about my job.

None of this matters to me; _they_don't matter to me. I don't care what they think of me and I especially don't care what they may say about me behind closed doors. But it's the undiluted hurt in Blaine's eyes when his mother sweeps past him that makes my heart thump with hate, the sneer his father shoots him when he doesn't think Blaine's looking that makes my hands ball into fists, my knuckles shine white as pearls as I practically shake with the trouble of holding myself back. It's the blatant insinuation that Ava would be better off living with them that makes my sight spark white around the edges and the world shift beneath my feet.

I don't know how long we stay like this, wrapped tight around each other beneath unforgiving fluorescents, darkness seeping thick and soft like velvet through the uncovered windows. So easy to be drawn into and disappear. So easy to pretend people fuelled by hate don't live when the night is thick and embracing you.

"I hate them," he eventually breaths, a confession between us as I cling tighter, holding him against me as I wish for a different world.

"I know," I say, voice breaking the silence over the hum of the bulbs above our heads. Once again the night engulfs us and I wait until I can no longer feel his heart beating a rhythm against my stomach before I next speak, "come on," I say, "let's get up to bed."

I take hold of his elbows, steadying him as he stands and my heart aches with the look in his eyes. He glances up as he stumbles slightly, fingers closing cold around my forearms, the light of a smile momentarily brightening his bloodshot eyes before they blink closed with sleep and whiskey. "Sorry," he repeats, syllables slurred slightly as his feet catch on themselves.

"Nothing to be sorry about," I assure him, looping an arm around his waist and half dragging him to the door. I flick the light off and help him as quietly as possible to cross the hall. I lower him to the second bottom step, stifling a laugh as he falls back to lay spread dramatically up the stairs.

I fall to the floor and begin unlacing his shoes, peeling them from his feet before working on his still buttoned jacket, forcing it from his shoulders as his eyes stare blank and unfocused upwards. "I shouldn't've stolen that whiskey," he says to the ceiling, a disbelieving peel of laughter echoing around the house.

"I thought it was hilarious," I tell him genuinely, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead before moving to hang up his jacket, "and your dad'll be so pissed, it was well worth it," I say through another laugh, wondering just how expensive the bottle he's stolen might be.

He grins up at me lopsidedly, reaching towards me with insistently grabbing fists. I roll my eyes and step forward, allowing him to pull me over him a little, my hands steadying a few steps above his head. "I made sure t'grab 'is favourite, most expensive bottle," he whispers, nuzzling softly into my neck with a childish, but still somewhat hollow, chuckle.

"Good," I say, running my fingers gently through his hair, smiling as he hums and presses back into my touch. "Come on then, you've got to help me a bit Blaine," I tease, hooking my hands under his arms to heave him to his feet.

He stands, wobbling momentarily before steadying and leaning up to kiss me. I let him, my hands on his waist and holding him back as he tries to deepen it, tongue gliding over my bottom lip before I pull back with a raised eyebrow. I can taste the whiskey on my lips, smell it on his breath and see it swimming in his eyes before he whines wantonly and tries again, kissing my jaw sloppily as I gently hold him back, hands strong on his shoulders as I turn him and push him up the stairs.

He chuckles, falling forward on his knees before beginning to climb the stairs slowly on all fours. Eventually we reach the top, and with minimal noise, all things considered, I half drag, half wrestle him into our room, closing the door maybe a little too loudly. I turn just in time to see him fall face first onto the bed, grumbling and crawling further up, nestling into a foetal position right in the centre of the bed.

"No no no!" I groan, rushing over to him, "don't sleep yet Blaine, not just yet, come on, sit up, there we go," I say as I drag him back to the foot of the bed, pulling him into a sitting position.

Once again he sends me a somewhat crooked smile, watching me with drooping eyes as I peel off his socks, letting them drop to the floor. "I love you Kurt," he says suddenly, voice shaky but so sure of itself that I can't help the wide smile that spreads over my face.

"I love you too," I say, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, watching his eyes cross as they remain focused on me, "now, can you unbutton your shirt for me?"

He nods a little slowly, moving heavy hands to his top button while I push him onto his back and quickly undo his trousers, forcing a hand beneath the base of his spine to hold him up while the other tugs the fabric down to mid thigh. Dropping him roughly back to the bed I shimmy them down his thighs and calves, over his slightly kicking feet before dropping them to the floor.

I glance up, pleased to see the long line of his exposed chest, all buttons open, before my eyes settle on his face; eyes blank and staring up, expression vacant, lips slightly parted as gentle puffs of air leave his lungs with each shallow breath.

"Blaine? You alright?" I ask gently, frightened of startling him as I run a hand up his left shin. He begins to nod, slowly at first before it changes mid movement into a gentle shake of his head, eyes falling closed as he sighs heavily. My heart sinks so fast in my chest that I feel it settle in my stomach. "Come on Blaine," I say, offering my hands to help him sit up, preparing to move him into bed properly.

But he just shakes his head again, hands closing loosely around mine and tugging gently, trying to get me to lie with him.

"No, come on, just get in properly and then I'll-"

"Please," his whine is silent and broken, heart wrenchingly vulnerable and I instantly crumble, allowing him to pull me onto the bed beside him. I bend my legs onto the mattress as he rolls onto his side and curls to fit against me, one knee pressing between my own as his face almost sinks into my chest, arms winding securely around me.

I feel him breath heavily in my arms, shoulders shuddering gently, unnoticeable if I wasn't holding so tight. His breath is hot even through my shirt as all the muscles down his spine tense and coil tight with tension beneath my palms, running over every trembling inch of his skin and hoping to provide warmth, if nothing else.

"Come on, shuffle up with me," I say, dragging us still joined from head to toe further up the bed. We finally reach the pillows and his head falls exhausted against it, his lips pressing damp against my collar bone. "They don't know what they're missing out on Blaine, I swear!" I try to convince him, whispering the truth into the gap between us and hoping it seeps into his skin and runs like blood through his veins.

"You're perfect, _so_perfect. Loving and honest and clever and I can't even begin to imagine a better dad for Ava. They're missing out on a lot more than you are, because the older they get the more bitter they get. They'll become bitter, and stale and _lonely_. But you? You have a daughter who worships the ground you walk on and will do for the rest of her life. You have me, and I can honestly say I love you beyond words, I love you more every day Blaine. And my family, my dad and Carole, Finn and Rachel? They adore you Blaine, absolutely adore you," I promise him.

After a few stretched minutes he finally stops shaking against me, one hand forcing its way between us to wipe his face, sniffling before he looks up with wide, exhausted eyes. "Thanks," he whispers before pressing his lips to mine, bittersweet with tears and alcohol but perfect, as always.

"My pleasure," I smile, nuzzling our noses playfully and feeling as tension rolls from his body in waves. "Can I get undressed now?" I tease, smiling as he nods sleepily and loosens his hold around me. I move from his embrace, smiling as his eyes follow me somewhat dopily. Standing quickly I shrug off my clothes, peel back the layers of blankets before crawling under, the cold settling over me. "Hey, come on, get in," I tell him, kicking at him from beneath the covers and watching as he blinks one eye open to stare at me.

He smiles half heartedly and folds his body as close to the headboard as possible before kicking the duvet back, sidling down and closer to me as I pull it right up to our chins.

I can feel his breath against my bare chest and finally manage to push his shirt from his shoulders, tangling it briefly in his arms before throwing it across the room. He shuffles impossibly closer, breathing still somewhat stuttery before a cold hand splays over my heart. Eventually his breathing evens out and his limbs relax as sleep overwhelms his exhausted body.

I lay for a few minutes, just staring at him; clumped eyelashes and wild hair, pale cheeks and dry lips, partially broken but utterly perfect. Because everyone's broken in some way. Whether by parents or partners or life in general, everyone has scars which form patterns against their minds and stitches which are unnaturally strong at holding back memories. Some cuts so delicate that they make barely a mark while others gauge so deep that the wound is forever visible, inside and out.

But I love every part of him. I love every scar and every stitch and everything that holds him together, everything from the lacerations on his heart to the sparks of love which glow like fireflies in his eyes.

/

The sun streams low and bright through our window, caressing my skin like tangles of seaweed on the ocean floor as I stir, groaning and shielding my eyes from the light as I resurface from a sea of sleep. My mind feels lead-heavy, muscles soar from lugging Blaine around last night.

I crack an eye open, arms searching for the press of skin before I find him, splayed like a starfish on his stomach. I snuggle closer and partially over him, burying my face between his shoulder blades, arm around his waist and knee tucked between his thighs. I drown in the heat radiating from his skin.

He shuffles beneath me, groaning a little before turning his head, facing towards the window as he blinks open, eyes like honey in the sun as one hand finds mine tucked beneath his stomach, fingers interlacing.

"Too hot," he grumbles, kicking the tangled duvet and sheets down to mid thigh.

"Sorry," I reply, making to slide off him.

"No! Not you, you stay, covers go," he says, words muffled against the pillow as his hand drags me back and secures me half on top of him. I smile, pressing a kiss to the sharp bone of one shoulder. "God my head hurts," he moans, pressing his face flat into the pillow as I stifle a laugh against his warm skin.

"I'm not surprised," I tell him.

"What happened? I don't really remember…" he trails off, words muffled against fabric as he shields his eyes from the light and his mind from the truth.

"What's the last thing you _do_remember?"

He groans as he turns his head back to the side, blinking a few times, eyes bloodshot and drowsy before he speaks, "I vaguely remember hearing them talking in the kitchen, but I can't remember what they were saying, but I know it made me angry, whatever it was…"

"Yeah… I guess that sort of coincides with you taking a few gulps of your dads whiskey straight from the bottle and then-" I'm cut off as his body jolts beneath me, every muscles from head to toe tensing as his head snaps up, neck craning painfully to look at me.

"Oh fuck! I stole it didn't I?"

I wonder whether to lie briefly but decide not to, "yeah…" I nod, half smiling.

His head falls with a thump against the pillow as he groans, hand tightening around mine while the other fists beside his head. "Such an _idiot,_" he says mostly to himself, "we're going to have to take it back," he whispers in defeat.

"Urm… I don't think there's much point Blaine," I tell him, lifting off him momentarily as he turns beneath me, pulling me back against him and cradling my head against his shoulder.

"What d'you mean?" he asks as his fingers trace patterns against my spine, leaning up to look down at me with confused, almost childlike eyes.

"There's not much left," I say, holding back a smile.

"Oh fuck," he curses again, throwing his head back dramatically and whacking it hard against the headboard. "Shit!" he yells, rubbing at his head as his face scrunches with pain. "Now my head _really_hurts," he moans, grabbing my unused pillow and propping it behind himself, leaning back with a lot more care.

I hide my smile by pressing a single kiss against his chest before sighing and rolling off of him, ignoring his whine of protest as I sit up and stretch my back, listening to the cracks of bone like badly oiled hinges up my spine.

"Come on," I order, turning and poking him hard in the stomach, "get up and shower and I'll go make breakfast,"

He frowns, rubbing his stomach before grabbing my wrist as I make to stand up, "can we have a bath?" he asks with eyes wide as saucers and the most adorable pout, eyebrows arcing hopefully.

"Blaine," I whine when he doesn't release my wrist, "you know we can't, now if you hurry up I'll bring your food up here for you," I offer.

But his pout remains, bottom lip jutting out, eyes pleading, "Please Kurt, come on, it's early, no ones even up!" he tries, pointing at the clock as proof, tugging on my wrist gently.

"Dads up, I can hear him," I say truthfully, able to hear him shuffling around downstairs.

"He doesn't even know we're awake," Blaine rolls his eyes, pulling hard and causing me to fall back onto the mattress. "Please?" he begs, elongating the word and pretending to sniffle back tears. "Come on… it's the least you can do," his voice is still pleading but I can hear the laughter shielded behind it, "I'm hung-over, and my parents hate me, and- "

"Your parents don't hate you!" I chastise, swatting at where he's still holding my wrist, laughter rippling from within me as he tugs me down against his chest, leaning to press a wet kiss against my jaw.

"They might as well… now can we please have a bath?" He's still smiling although the light behind his eyes isn't quite as bright as before.

Looking up at his waiting expression, full of hope and trust and undeniable love I know I can't deny him something so simple, especially after such an awful night yesterday. "Yes- fine, we can have a bath," I finally give in, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face at his undiluted joy.

"You're the best," he says, pressing a string of kisses across my knuckles as I stand, moving towards the bathroom. I shoot him a smile over my shoulder before disappearing from view.

I run the bath, pouring bubble bath beneath the hot tap and watching as it foams, thick bubbles spreading and filling the tub before it presses all around the edges, getting thicker and higher as the water continues to flow. I stand and watch, a small smile gracing my face as my eyes fall shut and I inhale the sweet aroma, condensation beginning to form against every surface, the heat making my skin almost damp.

I jump when two arms wrap around me from behind, a hum against my neck before hands dip down, over my hips, beneath the hem of my boxers, forcing them down as lips paint words against my skin. "I'm sorry if I was a complete jerk last night," he murmurs.

I laugh, turning to grin at him over my shoulder, "you were fine, quite funny actually, I was just worried… y'know, after how they'd been," I tell him, taking a step forward and turning off the tap, climbing carefully into the bath before sinking down into the hot water, sighing in relief as it settles like silk over my skin and feeling as his eyes watch my every move.

"Don't worry about me," he eventually says, grinning before closing the door and pushing his own underwear down quickly, kicking it from his feet as he walks over, "I'm happy as long as you're here," he says, splashing a foot into the water and spraying me in the face.

I glare at him as he climbs in properly, settling between my legs with a groan, shuffling until comfortable before leaning back against my chest, water-warm and wet. "And I'm happy as long as you're happy," I tell him, earning a dopey smile. He then pulls my arms from the sides of the porcelain and drapes them around him, pressing his head back onto my shoulder and grinning up at me like I've handed him the sun and the moon. He presses a wet kiss beneath my jaw before his eyes fall shut and he sinks back against me.

We stay like this for an uncountable number of minutes, the fingers of my right hand trailing up and down his chest and stomach in feather light strokes, brushing sparse hair as he grumbles sleepily, rubbing his thumbs absently against the skin of my thighs beneath where his hands rest.

Eventually though my skin begins to prune, my back aching against the hard bath and my legs become numb from where Blaine's pressing them against the sides. So I lean forward, earning a groan of displeasure from the mess of hot, boneless limbs in front of me, reaching for Blaine's shampoo. I pour some on my hands and lather it into his hair, earning a deep groan and press of his skull back into my palm, moaning as my fingers press against his scalp, nails digging gently into skin.

I smile as he leans his head so far back that I can watch his eyelashes flutter and fan dark against his cheeks, lips turned into a serene smile. "Rinse," is all I have to say before he's shuffling forward, knees bending and sticking up like mountains from the sea as his head sinks partially beneath the water, allowing me to remove the shampoo before his eyes open wide and bright as he stares up at me.

He then sits back up, passing me his conditioner before sinking his head back into my palms, humming as my fingers run through his hair, detangling his curls effortlessly as he stares contently at the ceiling. I dip my hands to massage the tip of his spine, the curve that stretches up beneath his hair, smiling as his head drops forward with a moan of pleasure before I plant a kiss against the knot at the top of his spine, dropping my hands into the water.

"Rinse," I say again before he slides diligently down, eyes already open and staring up at me with the simplest smile I've ever seen. A soft curve of pink skin. _The most beautiful smile in the world,_I think, before he ruins the moment; opening his mouth and allowing water to flood in before pursing his lips and spraying me straight in the face. "Blaine!" I practically scream his name, jumping and sitting upright, the sudden movement disrupting the water which crashes in tiny waves over his laughing face.

He splutters a little before sitting up, wiping his face with his hand before turning to grin at me. "You think you'd learn, but I get you every time," he teases, pressing a kiss to my hand which automatically gripped the side of the tub in surprise.

"You'll regret it next time you want a bath and I refuse," I say, genuinely trying to hold onto the stern look on my face before his bright eyes make me crumble, and then I'm laughing, slapping at his shoulder.

"Your turn," is all he says as he smiles happily and struggles to turn around between my legs, hands cupping water and bringing it up to drip over my head. I smile through the drips and allow him to wash my hair in slow circular motions, letting him take his time because I know how much he loves washing my hair.

To rinse it I just lean forward, holding my nose and dunking my head beneath the water while he quickly drags his fingers the wrong way through my hair, sending a strange shudder down my spine. When I sit up my hair falls across my eyes a little, blinking back shampoo and water before I reach for my conditioner, pressing it into his waiting palm.

He continues to grin dopily as he presses some onto his palm, raising his hands and carding his fingers through my hair. I allow my eyes to fall shut, sighing beneath his broad palms and strong fingers, tilting my head and moaning when he rubs behind my ears.

"Done," he then breathes, hot air ghosting over my parted lips before I blink open, his face barely an inch away, kneeling awkwardly between my legs which have bent and propped up against the edges of the tub, subconsciously allowing him room to move forward. I swallow noticeably, eyes dropping to trace the lines of his lips before shooting back up to his eyes. "Rinse," is all he says with a cocky grin, hands in my hair tightening as he begins to tilt me back.

My arms fall back to steady myself, first my hands before he continues to lean over me, shuffling forward, his weight slightly on top of me before I drop to my elbows, creating a hollow thump before he tilts my head _right_back, the water just deep enough at this point for water to lap over my neck and forehead, rushing through my ears with the sound of blood in my veins.

One hand drops from my hair to sink into the water behind me, steadying himself on top of me with barely any weight at all as he presses his hips down gently, cock rubbing against my own, both half-hard beneath water and sliding together so perfectly as we moan in unison.

And then his lips are on me, crashing against mine and knocking me further into the water as I gasp into his mouth, desperate for air and the taste of his tongue. And he doesn't disappoint, sliding it straight into my mouth alongside my own, warm and wet and delicious, one hand still behind my head, holding me just above the water as he begins to roll his hips forward in slow, torturous drags of wet, throbbing skin.

"Kurt?" my dads inquisitive voice fills the otherwise silent room, followed by a gentle knock on the bathroom door, making my blood run cold.

I gasp loudly; pulling away from Blaine too fast, water filling my mouth and rushing down my throat as I gasp for air. "I- ye-" I begin to cough, spluttering as I lean up a little, Blaine frozen above me, hovering inches from my skin, body radiating heat. "What dad?" I finally ask, eyes finding Blaine's as we both wait with racing hearts.

"I just came to see whether you and Blaine are coming down for breakfast, where is he?" he asks through the wood as Blaine stifles a laugh into my shoulder.

"I- er- he…" I smack Blaine maybe a little too hard on the head as he laughs into my skin, "I dunno where he is, I'll er- be down in a minute, just gotta erm- brush my teeth," I eventually say, sounding too much like a question as I shrug at Blaine, sending him into another silent peel of laughter.

There's a pause, far too long as I wait for my dad's next words. "He's in there with you isn't he?" he asks, voice undecipherable as my eyes widen and I swallow. Blaine stops laughing then and looks at me with nervous eyes.

"I- no he- he's not in here… I- I don't know where he is," I lie, feeling my words jitter around the edges and my breathing halt as I listen.

"So if he ain't in there, and you're just brushing your teeth, then I can come in, right?" he asks, stringing my lies together as I hear the creak of the door handle.

"No!" I scream, bolting so fast that I slip, Blaine's hand moving from around me in shock before I sink completely beneath the water, spluttering and flailing as I push myself up, water cascading like sweat down my neck and chest as I turn to the door. "Don't-" I cough, throat sore from inhaling water, "Don't come in!" I yell, frozen to the spot as I watch the door handle stop mid turn.

Silence reigns, time stretching on, both mine and Blaine's eyes trained on that damn door handle before it flicks back up, still closed, and we both sigh and slump with relief. "I'll see you guys downstairs," he says, and I wince. Sitting up as Blaine moves back to kneel, I rub my hands over my drenched face and shampoo-red eyes, shaking my head at Blaine who has the audacity to crack a smile.

When we finally make it down to breakfast the kitchen is unfortunately full. Carole's sat with Ava on her lap with Burt beside her at the breakfast bar, Finn with his head in the fridge, unsurprisingly, and Rachel leant against the counter, coffee in hand. She sends us a small smile before ducking her head to hide her snigger, conversation halting almost completely as we walk in.

I roll my eyes and instantly cross to the coffee machine, pulling down two cups and ignoring the silence which swells behind me. I hear Blaine take Ava, her filling him in on the sleepover her and Rachel had last night and the fort Finn had built for them in the living room. She grins up at me when Blaine leans back against the counter beside me, so I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead before turning back to the coffee machine, ignoring the small smile I can see on Blaine's face.

"So…" Finn then says obtrusively, clapping his hands together and shaking crumbs from them before swallowing the food in his mouth, obviously trying to clear the noticeably tense silence.

All our heads swing to face him, waiting for his apparent revelation before he visibly wilts under the scrutiny, hands fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt before he becomes very concerned with the magnets on the fridge.

I groan as I turn round to face everyone, rubbing a hand over my face before speaking, "Look dad, I-"

He cuts me off, raising a hand to silence me, eyes falling closed, "I don't want to hear!" He says, before sighing and opening his eyes. He then looks at me, _really_looks, and I can feel as his eyes search mine, but what he's looking for I don't know, eyes flickering momentarily to Blaine before he speaks. "You're both adults and- and what you do in your bedroom or- or bathroom for that matter is none of anyone's business so can we just… not?" he asks.

"We were just having a bath," I grumble, turning back to the coffee machine as I see Blaine practically shaking with repressed laughter.

"Awww, you two are adorable," Rachel then coos from beside me, earning an icy glare from me and a big, toothy grin from Blaine.

/

It's late afternoon when Blaine finds me hollowed away in the dark dining room. No light but for the ethereal white glow of my laptop screen as I type away diligently, my eyes sore from staring at the screen and my mind so full of design ideas and advertising campaigns that each email I respond to blends into a mess of black on white.

I look up as he enters, smiling from where my cheek rests squashed against my knee, my foot propped up on the chair.

"You've been in here for hours," he complains, leaning across from me and cocking his head to the side.

"Sorry, just loads of stuff to sort out," I say, rolling my neck and shoulders as I sit up properly, rubbing at my sore eyes.

He frowns, sighing a little before speaking, "come with me," he says, holding out his hand for me to take.

I groan, "I can't, I've got to finish this before dad and Carole get home, I promised I'd cook dinner," I say, refocusing my attention on the screen which is so achingly bright in the darkness.

His hand drops from in front of me, momentarily out of view before it quickly pushes down my laptop screen, closing it practically over my hands which move just in time. "Blaine!" I groan again, making to push it back open. But his hand stops me, splayed atop it, broad and strong as the muscles up his arm strain against me trying to push him away.

"No… come with me," he tells me again, catching my hand in his and quickly walking around the table to stand in front of me, grabbing my other hand as well and heaving me to my feet.

"Blaine- stop, come on… just let me- Blaine!" I complain as he forces his arms around my waist, I turn in his grip, scrambling for something to hold, hands gripping the edge of the table or a chair, but the wood is polished and slides against my skin as I dig the heels of my socked feet unsuccessfully into carpet.

He's laughing, tightening his hold as he drags me from the room, his chest vibrating against me. We reach the door which he bangs open with his foot, flooding the room in light from the hallway as he wrestles me through the door. My hands finally find something to hold, closing tight either side of the doorframe and holding with determination.

I hear him huff behind me, suddenly unable to just drag me. So he tightens his left arm around my waist, holding me flush against him, the muscles rippling beneath warm skin and the force of being held so painfully tight causes a strange rush of heat to coil up my spine. My hands weaken with this surge of desire and he successfully pries them away with his right hand, grinning against my neck in triumph.

He then turns me effortlessly in his arms. Crashing me against a nearby wall with strong hands which instantly fall to my hips. He's grinning up at me as he steps closer, crowding into my space and making my breath catch in my throat before he dips, hands running over my ass and the back of my thighs before he lifts me. Easily curling my legs around him as I gasp in shock and struggle to hide my smile.

He then turns and carries me into the living room, grinning up at me as he speaks, "you need to relax," he says playfully.

"You dragging me around like a rag doll is _not_ relaxing me," I tease as he lowers me to sit on the back of the couch, my legs still around him as he laughs into my neck and bites down gently.

"Ah, ah!" I swat at him, knocking him away despite how much I ache for his mouth to be on my body right now, "not after us nearly getting caught this morning," I tell him as he pouts, moving back to my neck before I capture his head in my hands. "I'm serious, I _do not_need that embarrassment again," I laugh, watching as a smile spreads across his face.

"Mmm," he hums into my skin, "there's only Rachel and Ava here, they don't care," he tries to convince me, nipping my skin again and laughing when I gasp against him.

"Considering you'd hardly touch me when we first got here, you've definitely changed your mind these last few days," I manage to say, hands falling to hold the sofa back to steady myself as he presses harder against me.

"Only when no ones around," he says, stringing kisses together against my jaw before sucking my bottom lip between his teeth.

"Well- well people are around so reign yourself in," I manage through another gasp, finally lacing my hands into his hair and tugging him back. He grins devilishly before it morphs into a big, almost effortless smile.

"M'kay," he then says, leaning forward to press a gentle, slightly lingering, kiss to my lips before stepping away. He pulls his phone from his pocket and fiddles with it for a few seconds while I stand up and straighten my clothes, he then places it on the table beside the couch and presses the play button, dragging me against him before I get to see what song's playing. "Dance with me," he says with a toothy grin, one hand against my waist while the other takes mine and begins to sway us.

"What're you doing?" I laugh, allowing him to move us together.

"Distracting you from work the only other way I know how; through song," he laughs as music floats into the air, slightly tinny and unrecognisable, slow and instrumental for a few long seconds before words fill the room, Blaine singing along as he presses us closer together, smiling my favourite smile.

"_Never wanna stand up for myself / Never wanna get in the way, I said it,_" I laugh out loud as I recognise the song, not having heard it in a long time as he continues to sing, _"I don't know what the plan is, / But you can share, with me, 'cause I'll / Be listening here, / To everything you say, I won't turn away,_" he steps back then, shaking his head as he sings, "_And I will listen, open up my heart and,"_his hands hover over his heart as I grin so wide my cheeks hurt, his voice unwavering as he stares into my eyes,_"I must say, that I love you, so"_he points at me, stepping closer and dragging us together as the next lines start.

_"Oo la love, I've fallen in love, and it's better this time than ever before / Oo la love, I've fallen in love, and it's better this time than I've ever known," _his hand around my waist is warm, his laughter spreading over my skin in waves as he moves us together, dancing stupidly and carefree, pressing us close and holding his hand over my heart, meaning every word he says.

He rolls forward onto the balls of his feet and kisses me quickly between verses before continuing to sing;

"_Eve-ry day is a battle I face / Strange life I live but its what you've decided,_" his hands come up to hold around my neck, mine falling to his hips as he sways against me,_"I'll give it all into your hands, / Do what you will, with me, and oh / I'll smile when you speak,"_ his fingers drop to trace my lips, smiling up at me so undeniably happily that my heart swells in my chest._"Remember all those times I was hoping for something / And shaking my head, from all I have done / But you never left me,"_

He's unable to stop himself then it seems, crashing our lips together with such force that I stumble back as the song continues to play in the background. It repeats the chorus twice as his tongue outlines my lips and presses in. I drag him until my back collides with the back of the sofa and I lean against it slightly, pulling him between my feet and allowing my hands to slide into the back pockets of his jeans, squeezing his ass gently and grinning when he gasps against my lips.

He pulls away then, dragging me with him, taking both my hands and spinning us, the world around us falling away as laughter and music fills our little world. His hands fall to my hips as he sings the next words; "_Give it up for you, I would give it up for you / I would give it up for you, I'd do anything for you,"_he sings, voice low and genuine and achingly familiar as he presses our foreheads together and sings the truth between our hearts.

The chorus repeats again, upbeat and catchy but we just move almost unnoticeably together, eyes locked and wide and honest, his lips mouthing along but no words coming out before I seal them with my own. Holding him still against me as we both press for more, bodies completely still now but for the slide of our lips together, the tightening of hands on hips and waists and around necks. Fingers gliding hungrily into hair, angling each other for just a little deeper, just a little more.

We pull away simultaneously as the final lines repeat, lips still pressed together as we both mouth along, "_I have fal-len in love,"_ the final word elongating and flowing through my body, along my spine and trailing out through my bones and nerves and running like blood in my veins. Settling through me as I take a deep, shuddering breath, finger tips numb and knees almost buckling as I stare into the golden eyes of my future.

The final notes play out into silence as we stare unmoving. I then feel as his right hand laces with my left, squeezing slightly and I squeeze back, watching as a hurricane of emotions swirl in his eyes. Then slowly, achingly slowly, he lifts my hand, eyes dropping from mine as he turns it palm upwards between us. My eyes fall to watch as his index finger traces butterfly-light along the lines of my palm, like the roads of a map; finding his way.

And maybe he is. Maybe our hands hold the secrets to our lives and all it takes is that one single person who can read _your_ map, who can explore its roads and junctions and highways. One person who can get lost over and over again but will always find their way home. Will always retrace their steps and always be _willing_to retrace their steps if you're what they find at the end.

Or maybe they find a new route or carve a completely different course.

Maybe they find you again after eight years and fall, stumble and crash their way into your life along the same path they took last time, and then fall, stumble and crash their way straight back into your heart.

"I can't wait for us to start our lives together," Blaine then says, his voice low and awed as his eyes flicker back up to mine.

I stare at him, smiling minutely as his thumbs strokes over and over the crease where my ring finger meets my palm.

"I think we already have."


	40. Chapter XL

**A/N: So, this is it I guess.**

**Feel free to ignore my gushing, but here it is: This was my first story, my first genuine attempt, and everyone who's read this has made it amazingly fun, and so, _so_worth it. Honestly, every time I come on here and see another 'alert' or a new message it just makes me squeal and smile and... I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you, to every single reader. To those who have stuck with me from the beginning, and those who might have only recently started reading, you're all lovely and I adore you.**

**This is the epilogue then... I don't know whether it's what you're expecting but, here it is, and for the last time, and as usual, enjoy, remember to check the date, and read whose head you're in...**

**(The song used is If My Heart Was a House by Owl City. Definitely listen when it begins to get the whole picture)**

Tuesday April 19th 2022

**Ava**

Something's changed.

I don't know how I know but I just know that something's changed. Something's different, not exactly _bad_ different or even _good_ different, but definitely _different_.

I first kinda noticed it loadsa time ago when we went on the plane and stayed with Kurty's daddy and almost mummy. Not last time, or the time before that, but that first time when I met Finn and he told me that when he and Aunty Rachel have kids that he hopes they're as awesome as me. I remember that, 'cause it made me smile so hard my face hurt. But it was a different hurt from the kind caused by cold, sort of like that happy ache you sometimes get in your heart.

But something changed after that visit. After we got back home to England and I started back at school. Kurty was around loads more. Well, he was always _around_I guess, but I mean, he was around even more. He'd spend days and days with me and daddy, having sleepovers. Sometimes we went to his which was nice because he had more channels on his TV, but I was always a little more scared of spilling my orange juice at Kurty's.

And then one day after school me and dad were walking to Kurty's, and I was thinking about whether dad might let me get the paddling pool out at the weekend because the sun really was extra, _extra_warm that week. And he sort of looked at me and smiled and asked me a question that I could tell was really, _properly_ important.

"Av," he said in his serious daddy voice, the one used only for when he taught me about naughty words, and that time I asked him where my mummy and daddy are now they're not… well, not _here_. "How would you feel about Kurt living with us?"

"He sort of already does live with us," I said back, watching as a butterfly flew lighter than air in front of us, wings burnt orange like rust but pretty and delicate looking. I wondered what it'd be like to fly; I'd go up and up and up and dance with the stars.

"Well, how about if it wasn't 'sort of' and we moved to a new house that the three of us could live in together?" he asked, watching me with his goldish eyes that I'm always being told I have, which I always think is kinda dumb, 'cause if I've got his eyes then whose eyes does he have?

I thought about it quickly. I thought about if Kurty was to live with us proper and what might be different. I'd definitely have to have a lid on my orange juice then. Although I hadn't spilt anything in _days._ Apart from the day before when I was carrying my plate and a dollop of sauce fell off and went on a scarf of Kurty's, which was apparently made my a man called Marc Jacob. I've always wondered what this Marc Jacob guy's doing with his life if he's got enough time to sit and make scarves.

Daddy said not to worry though, he'd buy a new one and Kurty doesn't need to find out. So that had been okay I guess.

But then; a new house? What'd happen to the house we live in now? And my bedroom? And the pictures of my mummy and daddy up the stairs?

"What about all the stuff in our house already?" I asked, squinting up into the sun.

"We'd take it with us, with Kurt's stuff, and get a new house. You'll hopefully get a bigger room and you can decorate it any colour you like," he promised me.

Maybe I'd paint it all different colours like butterflies and dream about flying to see Finn and Burt and Carole and Aunty Rachel whenever I liked. "M'kay," I said, already planning where I might find paint the exact colour of wings. Kurty'd know where to get some.

"Okay?" he asked, sounding a little bit surprised.

I glanced up at him as we turned onto Kurty's road, swinging our hands between us.

"Yeah," I said. He smiled so wide that I think it must have hurt his face like mine did that time with Finn. But it can't've hurt that much, because it stayed on his face for the rest of the day, smiling at the world like the happiest man alive. I wonder whether at that moment he _was_the happiest man alive. But then later, after dinner and after the kitchen had been cleaned, Kurty came over to me and was smiling just as wide, and I figured maybe they were just happy to see each other.

So that was the first big thing that changed.

We moved into a different house, tall and pretty with big windows and grey bricks and a door the colour of the ocean. We all put on our painting clothes and decorated every room in the house until paint coated my skin so thick that I thought I would be kaleidoscope coloured forever.

Kurty painted flowers along the bottom half of the walls in my new room, and big, huge winged butterflies across the top. He then lifted me onto his shoulders and let me help paint the ceiling bright, startling blue like the sky, one of my paint sodden hands gripping his hair. It was always summer in my room.

Then nothing changed for a little while.

We all lived together and it was a little bit further from Kurty's work, which he sometimes complained about, but then dad would say 'but think of all the money we're saving for later,' in a voice that made me wonder what he was talking about. And then Kurty would smile and kiss daddy and I'd turn away because kisses are icky.

And then I started Big School and I met loads of different friends. A couple weeks in a boy named Danny asked me where my mummy was because he'd only ever seen two men pick me up. I told him that my mummy and daddy died when I was little, and that my uncle is now my daddy. He made a sad face at that but I promised him that it's okay, 'cause I've got dad and Kurty, and they love me just as much.

He asked who Kurty was, and I told him he's my dad's best friend. He smiled and said, 'that's cool.'

When I got home that day I told daddy about Danny, and he told me the real word is 'boyfriend', if people ask again, but 'best friend' is just as good if I don't want to say the other word.

Later that week I sat with Danny to eat my lunch from my Batman lunch box and told him that the proper word was that Kurty was my dad's 'boyfriend'. Danny nodded and smiled and said, 'that's cool' again. Then he offered me half his cheese and pickle sandwich 'cause I'd told him that was my favourite the day before, and I gave him a finger of my Kit Kat.

Then, after another Christmas in Ohio, we came home and the school had something called a 'Parents Evening' where your parents are supposed to go and talk to your teacher about whether you're getting your spellings right, or something like that. Either way, I thought it was dumb, because my spelling was brilliant, but I told daddy anyway and he got really over excited.

And then _he_told Kurty, who got sort of confused and a bit quiet and sat reading a book without any pictures. I was in the hallway practicing tying my laces when I heard them speaking;

"Kurt, what's wrong, are you upset over something?"

"Of course not, why would I be?"

"You've been really quiet ever since dinner."

"It's nothing," Kurty had said, although even a room away I could hear _something_was bothering him. Maybe he preferred books with pictures and was majorly disappointed.

"Come on, Kurt, just talk to me."

"Honestly Blaine, I'm fine. The parents evening thing just sort of… hit home I guess."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well… the fact that I'm not her 'parent', and therefore wont be going, just made me remember that she's not technically _mine_," Kurty sighed a little and I wondered why they were talking about me.

"Oh Kurt," dad had laughed, "of course you're coming to parents evening, you idiot!" _Why would Kurty not come to speak with my teachers?_ I wondered. "And she's just as much yours as she is mine, Kurt I can't believe you'd even _think_ like that. You thought you weren't invited to parents evening?"

"Well no… seeing as I'm not her parent."

"Kurt, you don't need some silly bit of paper to define whether you're her dad or not. What defines that is the fact she relies on you _every day_ for something, to be there and to listen and to love her no matter what. Did you know there's only one person other than me who she lets kiss her bruises and cuts better, and that's you. She even called you dad last week Kurt, you don't need much more confirmation than that," I can hear daddy pleading and I wonder whether I'd upset Kurty un-on-purposely.

There's a little bit of silence and I wonder whether they can hear me listening. But then Kurty speaks and I breath a sigh of relief, "so I can come to the school with you?" he asks.

"Of course, I expected you to anyway," and then they're both laughing, and I would bet all the birthday money hidden under my bed that they're kissing, so I stay out in the hall and try my laces a few last times.

Anyway, the parents evening thing was a waste of a night in my opinion, my teacher, Miss. Finch, just told them both that I was doing really good in all my lessons and that although I talk maybe a little too much in class, and that climbing the trees at the back of the field really, _really_wasn't allowed, that there was really no problems with my development. Whatever my development is.

And then she said, "We did have a small incident," and I watched as she fiddled with the charms on her bracelet, pretty and gold and shiny.

"What happened?" Kurty had asked, daddy glancing at where I was sat beside him, my legs stopping mid swing.

"Well, a few days ago Ava was involved in a bit of a fight out on the playground," I instantly hang my head in shame, avoiding the gaze of the adults and watching out of the corner of my eye as dads body angles towards me slightly.

"What- what happened?" Kurty asks, while dad speaks at the same time;

"Ava, why didn't you tell us you were being bullied?" he asks, reaching a hand out to hold my knee.

"I'm not being bullied," I managed to mumble.

"I don't think you understand Mr. Anderson," my teacher said, and I looked up, surprised to hear her voice strong but not like she was going to tell me off. "Another student was saying some rather... hurtful things about Ava's home life. Specifically the fact that she has two dads."

I bit my bottom lip and willed myself to look at daddy and Kurty's faces, both of them with wrinkly brows and slightly parted lips before they turned to me.

"Maybe I should let Ava explain," Miss. Finch then said, giving me a reassuring nod that I wasn't in any trouble.

"Okay," I began, "well, me and Danny was playing skipping, and I was trying to teach him 'cause he'd never done it before," I look up and swallow as they all watch me. "And then this boy from two years above called James comes over, and says that playing skipping is for girls. So I said, 'well I am a girl', because I am. And I saw Danny got a little upset so I took the skipping rope from him, and told him we could go and play on the climbing frame because that's his favourite,"

They're all nodding at me to continue, Miss. Finch smiling sweetly, a little bit of sadness turning down the corner of her lips. "So we were walking away and I heard James say something about- about his father telling him that I lived with 'a pair of fags' and so not to be my friend. And I- I don't know what fags means but from the way him and his friends were laughing I knew it wasn't nice. And Danny looked really upset about what James had said, which confused me more, and he- he grabbed my wrist as I walked back over but I pushed him off."

I was frightened then, staring up at the grown ups, Miss. Finch looking the saddest I've ever seen her. Normally she's bright and happy with rainbow coloured bows in her pretty auburn hair, but not now. And as for daddy and Kurty, well, I've never seen them look so mad and angry and scared. But I just carried on, hoping that maybe they wouldn't be too mad once I'd finished.

"So I asked James what he said, and he repeated it, and did one of them nasty, not real smiles, and it made my tummy turn when his friends laughed again. And then I-" tears pricked my eyes as I tried to speak, hoping I wont get in too much trouble. "I got really mad because he was being so mean, and Danny was shouting me over and he kept saying, 'he's bigger than you Av,' and 'he's not worth it' and I just- I got really angry, and then before I even knew what I was doing I just sort of, jumped on him and was hitting and kicking and- and I'm really, _really_sorry. I promise I won't do it again, I absolutely promise!" I'm practically sobbing by now as daddy pulls me onto his lap and smoothes down my hair, whispering that I'm not in trouble, and I was really brave, and that this James kid sounds like a meanie who deserved it.

It turns out I didn't get in trouble. Well, that's a lie, I did a little bit, but mainly Kurty just told me that what James said was mean, and that there's a lot of mean people in the world, and I can't go around hitting people just 'cause they're mean. Miss. Finch had told them that James had a black eye for a week after I hit him and I can almost swear I saw a flash of a smile across all three adults faces. So then I promised I wouldn't fight with anyone again, no matter what they said, and would just walk away with Danny and tell either daddy or Kurty when I get home.

And then things were normal again for a long, long time. All through summer and winter, another Christmas with our family, my hand pressed to Aunty Rachel's swollen belly and feeling as her baby kicks inside of her. Watching a dopey grin spread over Finn's face each time.

And then we were home again, and that's where we are now, with something having changed and different.

I _really_noticed it yesterday, when daddy told Kurty that he's taking me round Danny's to play, that's when I realised something really _was_happening. Because Danny's on holiday at his Granma's in Wales and has promised me a postcard which I've been checking the mail for everyday.

But Kurty just nods and smiles, distracted by some pictures, and before I know it dads bundled me in a taxi that's already waiting down the road. Practically jumping in his seat with nerves.

"What's going on?" I say, inquisitive at six and a half.

"Ava, I'm going to tell you a secret but you have to _promise_ me you won't tell Kurt," he says sternly, turning to face me, wide smile so opposite to the serious look in his eyes.

"I promise," I reply instantly, watching him fidget, my mind swirling with questions.

"Burt and Carole, and Finn and Rachel and their new baby Zachary are coming to visit us for a little while, their plane lands today," he says excitedly, smiling as I gasp and half scream in joy.

"Really? Are they really coming all the way here to see us?" I ask, glancing out of the window and wondering where they are now.

"Yes, they are, we're going to the airport to get them now, but you have to keep your promise Ava, you _can't tell Kurt!_" he says again, and I wonder why he's repeating himself because I haven't forgotten.

"I won't," I promise, "but why can't he know? Won't he want to see his daddy?" I ask, suddenly confused.

"Of course he will, but it's only one day you've got to not tell him, just tonight and tomorrow morning before school, he'll see them tomorrow, I just want it to be a big surprise," he says, and the shininess in his eyes makes me smile and think of distant stars.

"Okay, I won't say a word," I grin widely as he pulls me awkwardly across the chair for a hug, restricted by my belt but grinning into his shirt none the less, and I can feel as his heart thumps quick beneath my palm and I smile, loving having a secret to keep. A secret that makes my daddy's heart pound like a drum.

**George**

It's almost two years ago now since Kurt practically floated into the office, smile so bright it would rival the sun and temper as calm as a lake. It was surreal.

He smiled at everyone he passed, and when questioned about it his grin simply widened. His eyes shining like stars as he spoke; "Blaine and I just bought a house together," was all he said before disappearing into his office.

The entire room fell silent, all glancing at each other with wide eyes, momentarily frozen before barging a stampede after him. He grinned up from where he was rifling through his desk, searching for god-knows-what, not at all surprised by our reaction, all our faces bursting at the seams with smiles.

"When!" I was the first to ask.

"We literally _just_ signed the final papers," he beamed, and I could see his hands shaking a little as he settled them on the edge of his desk, anchoring himself to the ground.

Everyone cheered, rushing forward and engulfing him in a sea of limbs and arms and love, shouting congratulations and thumping him on the back. And he just grinned and laughed and held back tears. "I've got to go, but we're going to have a house warming party soon and you're all welcome," he said quickly, before gliding from the office; and I swear his feet never touched the floor.

So weeks later, after they'd painted and furnished, and no doubt _christened_every room of the house, we all arrived with crates of beer and bottles of wine and were introduced to new neighbours and old neighbours, friends from Blaine's work. (Some of them were old teachers of mine, which bordered on awkward but we soon got over it. Although I did keep slipping back into the habit of calling them Mr. and Ms.)

And because it was early summer and the night was warm and long we filed outside into their garden. We decorated the trees with fairy lights from their Christmas decorations, and the lawn with a mismatch of chairs and rugs and blankets. The earth was sun-warm beneath our bodies as the sky bled crimson above our heads, before night leaked like ink and stained it navy blue.

The music was too loud and the laughter even louder, and I watched as Kurt and Blaine moved like one long, drawn out musical note together. They were inseparable, hands twined and smiles shared, laughing together and kissing when no one was looking, and then kissing despite people looking. Kissing because people were looking, because it was _their_house and _their_rules, as Kurt took to saying throughout the night.

Slowly people began to leave, _children to get into bed_ and _jobs to go to in the morning_, they all said. But each and every person hugged them both, congratulated them, told them the house was beautiful. And each time their smiles grew a little bit wider, and if possible they fell a little bit more in love with this new life together.

By the time I left I'd had too much to drink and I was drowsy with happiness, so I kissed them both hard on the lips and told them I hoped one day I fell as madly in love as they had. They exchanged shocked faces and then laughed into the warm air before closing me in a hug. They thanked me, but I don't remember what for, and then gave me money for a taxi because I'd lost all mine to Ava in multiple games of dominoes.

And then things fell back to normal. Kurt would grumble some mornings about the longer commute but would then spend his entire lunch chatting happily to Blaine.

So they fell into a pattern together, a rhythm of music which worked for them, and for a long time nothing changed. Well, of course things changed; Blaine got some promotion and Ava started at a different school, Kurt turned down a week at a fashion event in Paris and instead whisked Blaine off to Italy for his birthday.

But essentially, the things that mattered, remained the same. They were still madly in love and inseparable and unfathomably happy.

So when Blaine rang me last month, voice frantic and hurried and frayed around the edges, I thought, something's either very, _very_ wrong, or very, _very_ right.

"George, I need to ask you a massive favour but you have to _swear_ you can keep a secret…" he'd said, my heart beginning to race as my mind hurried to keep up with his words.

"I- yes, of course." I instantly agreed.

"You _promise_me you won't tell anyone? Not a soul?" he'd asked, the familiar seriousness in his voice making me laugh. Always one for dramatics.

"I promise, I won't breathe a word to anyone," I emphasised, pressing my ear closer to my phone in desperation for his secret.

"So, in about a months time," he said, "I need you to do a few things for me, you're the only person I can ask so please, _please_say you'll do it?"

"Of course I will, what is it?"

"Well…" he began, before beginning to list things I needed to do, people I needed to speak to and arrangements and lies I needed to weave like intricate spiders webs. I listened diligently and took notes and smiled through his planning.

"Have you got all that?" he said when he'd finished, taking a deep, somewhat cleansing, breath.

"I have," I assured him, drawing little stars along the margin of my paper.

"And you promise me-"

"I promise, not a word to anyone until it's absolutely necessary. And even then I won't reveal the true reasons," I said, feeling secretive and completely thrilled by his elaborate plan and the huge secret he's trusting me with. "Oh- and Blaine?" I quickly said.

"Yeah?" he called back down the line.

I waited a second, imagining him stood out in their garden, away from where Kurt can hear, checking feverishly over his shoulder. "Congratulations," I said.

His smile reached me from the other side of London. "Thanks," he said, and I could hear the happiness sweeping through him.

But now it's a month later and the plan is nearly complete, one more task remaining. However this one is by far the most important part of the entire night. Well, maybe not _the_most important, but I like to think it's quite essential.

I smile in that knowledge before calling down the corridor, "you almost ready Kurt?"

"Yeah," he calls back, locking his office and shrugging on his coat, striding over to me and lifting a box into his arms. "Lead the way," he smiles; utterly clueless.

**Burt**

So I know I'm not exactly _young_anymore, but I wouldn't say I'm old either. Yeah, maybe I've got grown up kids, and I'm considerably nearer to 60 that I'd like to be, and my hairs just non-existent now, but I'm not nearly as oblivious as Kurt seems to think.

He just doesn't think I notice things, when really I notice everything and just wait for him to feel ready to tell me, if he wants to of course.

Just like how I realised he was gay long before he 'came out'. Why's it called 'coming out' anyway? People don't physically come out of anything; they don't break out of a shell or a cocoon of silk, or even a proverbial closet and are suddenly gay. He was born gay, and I love him no more, or no less because of it.

But yes, I knew before he actually told me. But I waited. I waited until he was ready to tell me, I waited through the whole pretending to be straight debacle, and I waited after that, and I would've waited for as long as it took. But eventually he told me, and it meant the world to know he felt comfortable enough to.

So my sons gay? So what.

And then he met Blaine, and I put up with the 'Blaine said this yesterday,' and 'Blaine and I are going here-and-there at the weekend,' and 'no dad, Blaine's just my friend.' So I just smiled and nodded and told him to invite Blaine over for dinner one night if he wanted. So Blaine stayed for dinner and I pretended not to notice how their hands slipped simultaneously under the table and the blushes that followed.

I, mostly, turned a blind eye to the laughter and whispers which floated from his closed bedroom door, and I ignored the way the two of them jumped apart when I would get home early from work.

And then one day, one inconspicuous day among many days, Kurt sat down with me while I was watching a game. Which was unusual on its own, but it was when he asked who was winning that I realised he wanted to talk to me. So I muted the TV and turned to him. "What's up kid?" I asked.

He sort of looked up, watching the silent TV before turning to me. He half smiled and I could see he was a little nervous. "How would you feel if- if I said I had a boyfriend?"

_So this is it,_I'd thought. I rubbed my head, sighed, and then smiled. "I'd say he's the luckiest guy alive and you should invite him over to meet us all some time." Kurt grinned so wide at that, eyes shining bright as the sun, bright as his mothers. He opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke over him just in time, "but I'm going to take a stab in the dark, and say you don't need to invite Blaine over specifically to meet us all, seeing as he's here practically every day."

Kurt's eyes went wide, shocked, cheeks staining pink. "You… you _know_?" he asked.

In response I laughed, turning back to the TV and unmuting it, "It's kind of hard to miss," I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smiling, looking down and fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of the couch. He then stood up and headed to the door. "Kurt?" I called as he almost disappeared from view.

"Yeah?" he said back, poking his head back in.

I turned to look at him, smiled a little and held back the urge to tell him to stop growing up and to just stay my little boy forever. "Blaine's a good guy Kurt, I'm happy for you both," I told him instead.

And he just smiled back a little nervously, laughing under his breath, the world lifting from his shoulders. "Thanks dad," he said.

So that was that. Blaine was suddenly round a whole lot more and to some degree he felt like my third son. There they were when I got home from work; cuddled up on the couch sleeping, laughing in the kitchen and running down the stairs with hair breaking free of gel. But Kurt was so happy, and Blaine equally so, so I just gave them the benefit of the doubt and as usual pretended not to notice.

Then fast forward eight years or so and there we sat, at the same dining table three Christmases ago as I watched my son fall in love all over again with his high school sweetheart. And as before I pretended not to notice their hands sliding under the table, and even more so than that I pretended not to notice that thick, marker pen line that stained my son's skin.

I acted as if it wasn't there and wasn't significant and didn't make my head thrum with, _too soon,_and, _please don't make a mistake,_and, _are you sure?_

So maybe after that I watched a little closer. Eventually the line disappeared and left the skin as pale as before, but whenever I looked at his hand it was all I could see. And I watched Blaine too, I watched him watch Kurt's hand and thought maybe it wasn't too soon. Maybe that's where they're heading. Maybe that's where they've always been heading.

So as usual I looked away and waited for Kurt to tell me; I waited until he was ready to tell me something I already knew.

And then that night when they visited Blaine's parents. I didn't interrupt, I didn't demand to be told anything, it was their life, and Blaine's family, and it was up to them whether to tell me or not. Kurt did, a few days later, but I'd already heard the soothing words he whispered into Blaine's hair all night, and when I woke early I saw them. The sheets and duvet had been kicked almost all the way off, just wearing their boxers and curled so tight together that it was impossible to distinguish whose limbs were whose. And that intimacy, in that moment, Blaine's face buried into my sons chest, their arms straining to hold tighter, that was what made me realise that yeah, they're still young, they haven't been together all that long, but they're so completely in love that marriage is inevitable, with or without marker pen rings.

But then they left back to London, taking their secret with them, and I couldn't help but be hurt by the fact my son hadn't told me about one of the biggest decisions of his life. I didn't mention it to Carole, I didn't mention it to anyone. It wasn't my secret to tell after all.

So new years came and went, as did valentines and Kurt's birthday and then Blaine's, and still not one word of an engagement.

Then there was a phone call at three in the morning, and how many phone calls at three in the morning are good news? So I shot out of bed with my heart hammering and answered the phone, Carole racing behind me in a dressing gown and pressing her ear to the phone.

"Hello?" I shouted down the line, my mind running through a million different things that could've happened, a million different ways the people I love could have been hurt.

"Dad?" It was Kurt, he sounded uninjured.

"Kurt? What's up? What's wrong? Are you-" I was asking questions and leaving no time for answers but he didn't care, he's never cared when I ramble so instead he just spoke over me.

"We're buying a house," he'd said, and the happiness in his voice stretched over the ocean and filled my heart as I slumped against the wall, rolling my eyes at Carole who had tears instantly swelling her eyes.

"And this couldn't wait till later?" I teased, "you about gave me another heart attack."

"Huh?" he hummed, initially confused before he gasped. "Oh god dad, I'm so sorry, I didn't even _think_about the time difference. I'm so sorry, have you taken your pills? Go and grab some water an-"

"Kurt, shut up, it was a joke," I tell him, rubbing my head and grinning at my wife. I held back the teases about _him_having forgotten the time difference for once.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, worry seeping into his voice.

"I'm fine," I reassured, "now tell me all about this house," I told him, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut at the fact there was no word of an engagement yet.

So they moved in together, and summer passed. Autumn arrived and brought school changes for Ava and then another Christmas in Ohio. I studied his hand. I searched for a subtle tan line where a ring might be, maybe he took it off before coming here, but there was nothing. Then there was another valentines day and more birthdays and anniversaries and _still_no mention of them being engaged.

Then this last Christmas, as we waved them off at the airport and I tried not to cry I figured maybe I'd just read into that damn marker line too much. Maybe it was just an insignificant smudge of pen and Kurt hadn't told me they were engaged because they _weren't_.

I guess I'd all but given up come New Year, then finally, completely out of the blue, mid January, came the phone call I'd been waiting on. It rang and rang as I wandered from the kitchen, sandwich in hand and leisurely answered.

"Hello?" I called down the line, listening to the crackle of static before someone spoke.

"Hey Burt," Blaine said, sounding a little strained but happy none the less.

"Hey kid, everything okay?" I asked, smiling and wondering what's warranted this phone call. It wasn't exactly unusual for Blaine to ring; it was just more regularly Kurt.

"Yeah- yeah everything's fine," he said, and even as he said it I could feel something was up. Something he'd rang specifically to tell me.

"You sure?" I wondered aloud, giving him the opportunity to tell me.

"Yeah, we're all great. I just erm… I just wanted to ask you something," he then said, and suddenly I was scared.

"Okay, ask away," I told him, stilling and trying to listen to any background noise on his side.

"I erm… d'you think you and Carole could come to London in mid April, hopefully for the 18th, definitely for the 19th? Finn and Rachel as well?" he asked, sounding nervous and putting me on edge.

"I'm sure we could work something out…" I offered, my mind running away with itself as I tried to work out the meaning behind his words.

"Really?" and he sounded so god damn hopeful that I laughed out loud.

"Yeah, of course," I assured him, hearing him laugh down the line, "why d'you want us there?" I asked, trying to sound natural, knowing him well enough that this wasn't just some random visit he was planning.

"I'm going to ask Kurt to marry me," he said with such confidence and joy and happiness that I felt tears well in my eyes. I didn't ask about that pen line, or about why that specific date, and I didn't tell him that I've been waiting two years for this news. Instead I just congratulated him and tried not to cry and promised him we wouldn't miss it for the world.

So here we are, Carole and I, Finn and Rachel and their baby, all huddled together like penguins, Ava in my arms, coats wrapped loose around us and smiling at the other people gathered. Everyone's spread in a circle with a small break where Blaine pushed people apart and is now pacing a little frantically. He keeps glancing at his watch and I wonder how much planning has gone into this. A lot considering the mass of people and the music set up.

But I wait, just like I always have for Kurt, offering him a smile when he looks over and watching as a million emotions decorate his face. And I wait.

**Kurt**

"I still don't understand why you won't just get a taxi," I complain as I shift the heavy box onto my other hip, following George across the street.

"Did your parents never tell you to not get in cars with strangers?" he teases, stopping to let me catch up and smiling as I approach.

"Well yes, but it's not really the same is it?" I say, rolling my eyes but smiling none the less.

"I dunno… I'm a pretty good-looking guy, one of 'em could just lose control and take advantage," he's laughing as he speaks and I can't help but laugh along.

"George," I say, "you're over six foot tall and _built!_I think you would struggle to find a taxi driver who could 'take advantage'," I'm shaking my head as I follow him over another road, not really paying attention to where we're going.

He practically roars with laughter, throwing his head back and laughing into the night as darkness just begins to creep over the city. The sky is burnt orange, fading into purple before sliding into dark, navy blue. Street lights begin to flicker on, glowing orange as white and red lights string together up and down the roads, beads of light against the black backdrop.

"How much further?" I complain, shifting the box again as my muscles begin to ache with the weight.

"Not far," he replies, leading the way into Hyde Park.

"What've you got in these anyway?" I ask, shaking the box a little in my arms and listening to the rattle of movement inside.

"Just stuff from work," he shrugs, smiling down at me widely before looking away.

I frown a little, trying to read his expression before giving up. Instead I grasp the box firmly under one arm and struggle to slide my phone from my pocket. I'd text Blaine just before leaving work, telling him I'd be late home, explaining that I was helping George with some stuff, but I'm yet to receive a reply. I stuff it back into my pocket with a huff, catching George's attention unintentionally.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Huh?" I glance up; catching his eye and watching him frown. "Oh nothing, just expected a reply from Blaine by now, doesn't matter," I assure him, offering a weak smile.

He hums a little, "maybe he's just busy," he says, looking in the opposite direction, apparently very interested in the trees along the edge of the park.

I nod, even though he can't see me, and ungracefully transfer the weight of the box to my other arm, trying to keep up with his long strides. "Hey, what d'you reckons going on over there?" I then say.

He looks down at me and follows my line of sight, smiling a little as he shrugs. "No idea," he says, although the smile in his eyes is unmistakable.

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously as we near the crowd of people, all formed in a loose circle. I crane my neck up to try and see what they're all looking at, but they're just too far away. "What're you grinning at?" I ask, unable to stop, or describe, the sudden sweeping feeling in my stomach. That feeling you get when you _know_you're missing out on something huge. Just as that swooping sensation takes place, I recognise the area of the park we're in, the area which that crowd is gathered around.

But George just shoots me a smile, a smile so childlike and carefree that I can't help but grin back, opening my mouth to speak before a voice calls my name, "Kurt!"

I turn suddenly, head swivelling as I search the crowd for the man whose voice I would recognise in my sleep.

And then there he is; hands tucked nervously into his pockets, hair neatly combed and a nervous, slightly shaky smile across his face, stood at what appears to be an opening to the circle.

"Blaine?" I question, eyes only for him as I approach, not noticing the tiny squeal of excitement that George makes, or the dozens of faces which follow my every move.

"Hey," he smiles, taking the box from me and dropping it to the floor, taking my hand and leaning forward to kiss me gently on the cheek. I notice his hand is shaking in mine, cold and quivering as I search his face, reading his emotions.

"What's going on?" I ask, grinning happily as I peer over his shoulder, trying to see into the circle, wondering what everyone's gathered for. But there's nothing there, just bare ground. So I look back to him and am momentarily blinded by the brightness of his smile, wide and unashamed and so indescribably happy that it takes my breath away. "What's happening?" I ask again, wondering what's got him so excited and nervous.

"Us," he then says, taking my other hand and tugging me with him as he walks backwards into the circle.

"What?" I ask dumbfounded, being pulled into the centre of the circle, my eyes now frantically scanning the faces surrounding us. But I only have time to momentarily recognise a few before his hand is splayed on my cheek, turning me to him, and I watch as he swallows and wets his lips. "Blaine, what's happening, seriously?" I ask frantically, my smile faltering as I take in his serious expression.

And then suddenly there's music filling the air, light and barely noticeable as it swells into the sky which darkens with every second. "Dance with me," is all Blaine says before he settles a shaking hand on my waist, looks up at me with expectant, hopeful eyes as his other hand waits for mine to slip into it.

My hand falls easily into his, stopping it from shaking and feeling as he clings tight, knuckles painfully white as he holds on. He takes a deep breath, stepping forward and holding me closer, moving our bodies together as lyrics begin to fill the night, mingling with his voice;

"_You're the sky that I fell through / And I remember the view / Whenever I'm holding you"_

He squeezes my waist slightly, looking up at me, catching my eye and smiling so heart-breakingly beautifully that I feel the earth move beneath me. And then it clicks. It's like a machine in my head has just fired up and everything slides into place, the grinding of metal as cogs begin to turn and the laughter which bubbles up from my chest. The world falls away then, the people disappear and every sound but for the music and the pounding of my heart in my chest, every sight but for his smile and every feeling apart from his body against mine.

"Is this you serenading me?" I lean down and whisper as the song continues in the background.

_The sun hung from a string  
>Looking down on the world as it warmed over everything<em>

He laughs through those lines and I see the night sky reflected in his eyes when he smiles up at me. "It certainly is," he assures me. And then suddenly his hand drops from mine as he lifts me effortlessly, turning us both with the music before lowering me gently. One hand on my waist lifts to run his fingers down my spine, and I feel as goosebumps erupt over my body, "_Chills run down my spine"_he sings, lacing our free hands and watching as our fingers fit perfectly together, "_As our fingers entwine"_while I watch him; the awed expression on his face and the soft, gentle curve of his smile.

And then he looks up, eyes bright as the stars which are breaking free above our heads. Breaking though pollution and clouds and the millions of miles of darkness to shine above us. Pin pricks of hope in a sea of black.

_"And your sighs harmonize with mine"_he breaths against my collarbone, hand twined with mine dropping to hold my shoulder before falling slowly down, resting above my heart, not doubt able to feel it thundering inside me. "_Unmistakably,"_he sings, and as he does so he smiles up at me again, and with the next words I understand why, "_I can still feel your heart beat fast when you dance with me."_

_We got older and I should have known  
>That I feel colder when I walk alone<br>So I may as well ditch my dismay_

Those next lines he doesn't sing, just allows them to swim over us and swallow us whole, their truth undeniable as we move like one soul, sharing smiles before he leans up and kisses me slowly, languidly, and just chaste enough considering the crowd.

I haven't yet had time to search for faces in the mass of people gathered, although the crowd does seem to have grown since he first tugged me into the middle.

Then suddenly the tempo picks up and he's lifting me again, hands on my hips as I grasp his shoulders and laugh unashamedly, twirling us before planting me firmly on the ground. He drags me against him a little rougher, hands tighter around my waist as mine get crushed between our chests, fisting the fabric of his shirt. I press our foreheads together and smile as he continues to sing, louder and move confident that before;

_"Circle me and the needle moves gracefully / Back and forth / If my heart was a compass you'd be north"_he leans up quickly, a brush of dry, smile-curled lips against mine before he dips me to one side. "_Risk it all coz I'll catch you if you fall,"_he smiles wickedly at my small yelp of shock before he straightens us up, a hand falling to rest open and splayed against my heart again. "_Wherever you go / If my heart was a house you'd be home."_

I can hear laughter around us and can't wipe the smile from my face, my heart swelling and doubling and tripling in size within me. Swelling so huge I can almost feel my skin tearing with the pressure of holding it in. Goosebumps decorate every inch of my skin, down my spine and along my arms, down my thighs as my nerves tingle with sensation.

"_It makes me smile because you said it best,"_he continues to sing, quieter now and moving us in a half waltz, head falling to rest against my shoulder as I swallow the lump in my throat and dare to press a kiss to his forehead. "_I would clearly feel blessed, if the sun rose up from the west / Flower balm perfume / All my clothes smell like you,"_he moves and grins up at me, toying with the hem of _his_honey brown blazer I stole this morning, "_Coz you're favourite shade is navy blue,"_he scrunches his nose, and we both shake our heads and laugh, both knowing my real favourite colour.

_I walk slowly when I'm on my own_  
><em>Yeah but frankly I still feel alone<em>  
><em>So I may as well ditch my dismay<em>

We both mouth along, not really singing but just smiling and watching and falling head over heels for each other again. I can see moisture shimmering in his eyes and kiss each eyelid, before I sing the next lines, not sure whether he'd be able to and wanting to make sure he knows I feel exactly the same.

_"Circle me and the needle moves gracefully / Back and forth / If my heart was a compass you'd be north,"_I point to him, making him chuckle and hide his blush before I slide a finger beneath his chin and tilt his face up to look at me.

And then he's singing again, finishing the song off. "_Risk it all cuz I'll catch you if you fall / Wherever you go / If my heart was a house you'd be home."_He repeats, my eyes flooding with tears which I manage to blink back. My face aches from smiling and my heart is practically bursting with love.

Slowly the song winds down, floating into the sky and leaving us alone beneath the darkness, bodies surrounding us but neither of us have eyes or thoughts or hearts for anyone else.

Blaine steps back slightly, out of my embrace and my hands instantly move to follow. But he stops them, sliding our hands together and squeezing, keeping one intertwined with my own as the other slides away. I instantly feel cold on one side and bring it up to my mouth, covering my lips as I watch his free hand dip into his inside pocket.

And then he's smiling up at me as he pulls a small, red box from his pocket, and although I don't see the gold name on the top, the design is undeniable, causing me to gasp, mouth falling open in shock as he drops to one knee. Then slowly, painfully slowly and with a little bit of a fight, he pulls his other hand free from mine, leaving it extended and shaking before I drag it up to my face.

One hand covers my still gaping mouth as the other falls across my eyes, no longer even bothering to hold back tears as they fall down my cheeks. I begin to shake my head, happiness making me lightheaded as he looks down, observing the box in his hands before looking back up.

And then he freezes, smile stilted, "you're shaking your head," he says, and the doubt in his voice makes my heart drop through my feet.

"No it- I just- I can't believe you actually serenaded me," I say through a laugh, wiping at my eyes and watching as a smile rises like the sun across his face. I hear laughter around us and am startled, having completely forgotten where we are.

"I said I would," he teases through a chuckle, still resting on one knee, both hands grasping that closed red box. He then takes a deep breaths, seems to steady himself, before catching my eye and smiling. "So," he begins, laughing through tears which are yet to fall.

I laugh back and can't help as I fall to my knees in front of him, landing heavy against the ground and not caring at all about my clothes, not liking him knelt in front of me when this is both of our decisions. I shuffle forward and we both smile, his raised knee dropping, both leaning forward to kiss. "God, I love you," he sighs as we pull away, his eyelashes fanning briefly against my cheeks; he then shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. "Kurt I- I could talk for years about how much I absolutely adore you," I laugh and duck my head, cheeks staining pink as heat flushes my face.

"But, hopefully, dependant on your answer to my next question," he's blushing as well, "hopefully we'll have an entire lifetime for me to do that," I watch him swallow heavily; clearing his throat a little while I wait. I wait for the question which will seal our future, our hearts. "So Kurt, will you," he looks down at the box, and gently tilts it open, revealing a simple platinum ring with three diamonds set into it, "make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?"

There isn't a pause. There isn't a moment or a second or a heartbeat for me to consider my answer, to think about it, to mull it over. Because I don't need to think about it. I've known the answer for over two years, and arguably even longer, arguably since the age of seventeen.

So instead I smile so wide my face threatens to break in two as I whisper a simple, "yes," laughing as tears decorate my cheeks and Blaine's smile lights up the dark night. There is cheering around us, laughter and whooping and clapping, but all I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears and the gentle rhythm of Blaine's breathing, the strum of his laughter.

I feel his hands take my left one, shaking as he pulls the ring free of the black cushion. He glances up at me as our hands tremble together, my free one held over my quivering lips. He grins again, for the millionth time, as with stuttering fingers he slides the cold metal easily onto my ring finger, pushing it over the knuckle to where it settles; flush against my skin and breath-takingly beautiful and perfect and ours.

His hand remains holding mine, sliding the ring smoothly from side to side slightly, before laughing and looking into my eyes.

And then all of a sudden there are bodies around us. Hands hooking under my arms and dragging me up, patting me on the back and laughing and shouting congratulations. And I can't focus long enough to distinguish faces or voices, my hand is being dragged every which way, angled to get a better look as I stutter thanks through tears and wish my dad was at least here to see this.

And then out of nowhere there are a pair of arms I could never mistake, a smell which brings with it my childhood and surprise so strong that my knees literally give in beneath me. But he supports me like he always has, pounding me hard on the back in a way only dads do. "I'm so happy for you boys," he's saying, and I can hear emotion in his voice, as if I was able to control my body enough to look at him right now, I'm sure he'd have tears in his eyes.

But I'm speechless it seems. Speechless and frozen in shock and happiness. And then there's Carole, and someone is ruffling my hair as Carole hugs me tight and I sink into her, sending a thought to my other mum, _I hope you can see how happy I am,_I think as I bury he head into Carole's warmth and feel the press of Finn behind me. He turns me around and there's another person in his arms. _Blaine,_I realise with a chuckle as his face is crushed close to mine against my brother's chest.

We both laugh and smile and watch each other with wonder. _Mine,_I think, _he's officially mine._ And then out of no where there's Rachel, tiny and loud with a bundle of blankets in her arms which I realise is my nephew. I take him from her as she hugs me tights, squeezing and congratulating and wiping away tears. And then Ava is in Blaine's arms and she's smiling and talking and completely bemused by what is happening.

Blaine and I look at each other, grinning momentarily before we're once again tossed into the sea of people, Ava being swept from his arms by Finn. Some of the crowd I don't even recognise, strangers it seems who stopped to watch and are now wishing us _good luck_ and _all the happiness in the world._

So I smile and thank them and try to act composed when inside I'm shaking with happiness.

But now I can look properly, I see that all my closest friends from work are here, including Blaine's. Some of our neighbours and friends from our old houses and some of my college friends who I've kept in contact with. Everyone who matters to us is here and happy for us and loving us with their whole hearts.

They're all talking and shouting and introducing themselves, and slowly some disperse, strangers walk away with smiles on their faces, couples leave with hands intertwined. And then someone says something about going out to celebrate and everyone agrees, and before me or Blaine have had a chance to say anything we're being washed away with a tidal wave of people.

But we find each other, through the crowd of congratulations and laughter we find each other. His hand falls into mine, strong and ever present and real. He smiles, thumb dipping into the cage of our palms to run lightly over the skin-warmed metal, making me sigh with happiness as I step closer.

We both lean forward and kiss briefly, fleetingly, not nearly enough, before pulling away with shared reluctance.

"I can't believe you just did that," I whisper, resting my head against his shoulder for a second as we walk, the sounds of our family and friends filling the night.

He laughs, "Neither can I really. But I promised you'd be serenaded," he's laughing and I just can't deny him merit for sticking to his promise.

"You sure did," I reply, catching his eye, both still smiling impossibly wide, "and today of all days," I add with a laugh.

He chuckles under his breath before speaking, "that day meant so much to me I- I wanted it to be a day we had reason to celebrate,"

"We already had reason to celebrate it," I assure him, squeezing his hand. Silence engulfs us momentarily, both remembering as the swell of people around us drowns out our thoughts.

"I meant what I said," he then says, "about spending a life time telling you how much I love you," he confirms at my raised eyebrow.

I laugh under my breath, ducking my head and running my thumbs over his knuckle, "I know you did," I say back, "and I- I feel the same," I confirm for him, needing to say it aloud to make sure he hears.

He shoots me that look, that same look that he would give me when we were in high school. Just a simple half smile out of the corner of his eye which makes my stomach flip and my heart thump relentlessly. And I smile back, scrunchy eyed and unrestrained.

"Love you," he says, squeezing my hand again before lifting it, inspecting the sight of his ring looped around my finger, the perfect fit.

"Is that today's declaration of love?" I tease, earning a snort and a nod of his head.

"Yeah, I guess it is," he says, raising my hand to press a kiss to the skin where his ring meets my knuckle.

"Well… I love you too," I say back, watching his eyes flicker with laughter and his heart swell with joy and happiness. We cross the road, still following the foot falls and voices of our group of friends, but we have eyes only for each other.

Maybe tonight wasn't wholly necessary. We already agreed to get married, years ago, promised in the dead of night in the fits of passion, but somehow tonight made it _real_. I can practically taste our future sweet on my lips; teasing me. _And I want it,_ I think, _I want it all now._

I want the same last name and the shared bank account and the rings which promise forever.

I want the future we promised each other over a decade ago.

And I'm finally getting it.

_If my heart was a house you'd be home._

**A/N: So yes, it was cheesy and that but... how else would you want it to end?  
>So that's it, thank you again, and hopefully when I start my next story you might pop over and have a look. PS. Come and see me on tumblr ;) hopingtobefree <strong>


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